


Devil's Advocate

by ElectroSoul



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Awesome May Parker (Spider-Man), Canon Compliant, DadDevil, Daredevil (TV) Spoilers, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Grief/Mourning, Human Disaster Matt Murdock, Hurt Matt Murdock, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Matt Murdock & Foggy Nelson Friendship, Matt Murdock Needs a Hug, Minor Foggy Nelson/Marci Stahl, Minor Luke Cage/Claire Temple, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple, Parent Matt Murdock, Past Matt Murdock/Elektra Natchios, Past Matt Murdock/Karen Page, Peter is a Little Shit, Post-Episode: s02e13 A Cold Day in Hell's Kitchen, Pre-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Pre-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Foggy Nelson, Protective Matt Murdock, Protective May Parker (Spider-Man), Retelling, Spoilers, Superhero Babysitter Claire Temple, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-07-29 10:09:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 40,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16262030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElectroSoul/pseuds/ElectroSoul
Summary: "Matt Murdock has fallen off the deep end. His friends no longer wishing to associate with him, the woman he truly loved, dead, he accepts that maybe he's just destined to be a lonesome old man for the remainder of his life...Peter Parker's winter break of his freshman year is slowly coming to a close, and in order to keep his MSST scholarship, he's required to apply for an internship program, all while trying to figure out this whole superhero shtick.Peter then receives a letter telling him he's been assigned to intern at Nelson & Murdock's law firm in Hell's Kitchen, unaware that the firm has been abandoned for several days, perhaps weeks. After receiving the home address of his original employer, Peter finds himself standing in front of a blind, possibly 40-something year old man who reeks of poor hygiene, alcohol, and lack of self respect."Essentially what occurs before Tony Stark becomes Peter's new mentor, and who really taught him the ways of fighting and mastering his new powers, all while healing a grieving, broken man named Matt Murdock in the process.(Takes place after Daredevil: Season 2 and before the events of The Defenders and Captain America: Civil War.)





	1. Galatians 5:19-21

**Author's Note:**

> Mostly a fic based of the idea of a MCU relationship between Matt Murdock and Peter Parker. For the most part, I'll be trying to stick true to the canon MCU timeline, but with a few minor changes, one of them being Peter getting his abilities a few months earlier than before, instead of the six months he claims in Civil War. Last thing, this is technically my first attempt at a fandom fic, so all up for critiques. With that, I hope you enjoy reading my take on these two and how they help each other grow as people.

Matt could feel his heart skip a beat in anxiety as he stood in front of the entrance to the office. The sight of it alone was enough to stir a dark feeling in his gut, the words on the window no longer holding their intended meaning.

Attempting to ignore the guilt, he forced himself inside the firm. Seeing her standing there made the instinct to run scream at him. Just toss the bag away and continue this way of living. Yet, his body acted on its own, moving forward as Karen finally noticed his presence. She turned at the sight of Matt, face struck with worry and regret.

"Thanks for meeting me," Matt said, tossing the cane aside on a nearby chair. He hesitated once more as he closed the door behind him, hoping to get rid of the possibility of escaping from this. For once in his life, the entire world seemed silent. The man with no fear was gone. The only fear he had left was the young woman standing in front of him, and the item he held in the brown paper bag.

"What am I doing here, Matt?"

Matt flinched at her words, hearing her voice crack as she spoke. He didn't need any superhuman sense to know she was trying to hold back tears. He knew all too well that she no longer wanted anything to do with him. Not him, nor Foggy. The chances at restoring a relationship with her were non-existent.

Still, she deserved to at least to know the truth.

He hesitated in his speech. He never thought he would experience the fear of public speaking. First for everything, he thought to himself. "I, uh...I have something-"

"No, I don't- I don't want it," Karen said, cutting him off. Matt, out of sheer nervousness, repeated what he already said, taking more steps closer to Karen, still keeping his distance as if she was the plague. "I have something...That I need you to see," he continued, the guilt becoming obvious in his tone.

The woman's shoulders slumped downwards as she gave a small sigh, avoiding eye contact with Matt. Reluctantly, Karen remained silent as Matt began to reach into the paper bag. He held his breath, pulling the helmet out without any further stalling. Like ripping a band-aid clean off. 

Karen stiffened at the sight, lost for words. Matt couldn't help but slightly gulp as he attempted to find the words to say. All chances of running away were gone. Focusing himself as Karen looked him in the face, he spoke once more...

"I'm Daredevil."

Karen stared at him in complete silence. Even though he lacked sight, he was confident she had a betrayed expression on her face.

"...What?"

It took a while for Karen to finally speak again. Her tone sounded somber, her heartbeat pulsing at a slightly faster rate, blood rushing to her cheeks. In a attempt to smooth the situation, albeit slightly, Matt forced himself to continue.

"I'm Daredevil... Have been for a long time. It's...quite a lot to take in."

Matt fumbled with the helmet, palms growing wet with each passing second. It took him quite a bit to keep his composure. Then again, he wasn't a lawyer for nothing.

"Karen, I-

The man was met with a cold, fierce hand to his cheek. Karen's heart was beating fast with adrenaline, a slight scent of salt indicating tears prickling at her eyes. "What do you mean 'Daredevil'?!" she said in a exasperated tone. "Was the whole blind thing just a act then?!"

Matt shifted the helmet to one hand, gingerly using the free one to feel the spot where Karen struck him. "I...guess I deserve that," he said with a quiet tone.

"You deserve a lot more, Murdock!" Karen said, breathing growing a bit more tensed as she pushed the man back a few inches. Matt tensed, the helmet falling to the floor with a soft thud. Still, he didn't exactly stop her. In his mind, Karen had every right to be angry with him. She could beat him into the ground and he would still be apologizing.

Karen stiffened her heels against the hardwood floor, hands slumping to her sides as she sniffed slightly. "Just...how?" she said, voice slightly cracking. Matt knew that she was going through many emotions in the heat of the moment. It pained him even more when he realized the familiarity of it all, the same pain she had back when he first took her in as his client.

Matt walked back, pulling up a nearby chair so he could sit and explain. Just standing made it more difficult to keep a solid face and avoid breaking down. He didn't want a repeat of Foggy.

"...Ever since I was a kid...When I became blind. My other senses, they got stronger. I can see... but just not in the way normal people do. I can hear from miles away, pick up every little scent, tell people apart from their presence... I can even tell when a person is lying..."

"Karen, I'm sorry I kept this from you for so long..."

Karen softened a bit at his words, still with a pained look. Not having the energy to do so, she simply backed towards the desk behind her, leaning slightly against it to give herself something to support her body on.

"So...When... When did you start...you know?"

Matt bit the inside of his cheek, knowing full well this was history repeating himself. "A few weeks before we found you at the precinct...Maybe months. It's been so long, I can't remember exactly. I've tried to avoid it for so long, but... One night, I just snapped." Matt hesitated for a moment, not wanting to go into detail about what finally motivated him to start his vigilante lifestyle. "Ever since then, it became habit. Second nature."

She didn't say a word, gaze kept away from the man. Matt gave another sigh, and continued... 

"Karen...Please don't think I did this out of ill intentions, I never wanted it to become this self destructive..."

The man paused for a moment. In truth, it was making him worse of a person. Yes, the rewards of those innocent in safe hands made it worth it... But...

"I'm just one man, Karen."

"Every night... This city would cry out... From the sirens...gunshots, screaming...It hurts, Karen. Hell's Kitchen...It needs someone to protect them..."

It was here, Karen snapped once again.

"From who, Matt?! Fisk is in jail, Castle is gone, the entire crime society is scared shitless because there's always someone waiting to claim them like bloodhounds! You used to say that the law would be our weapon! Now... I really don't know what word to use to describe you..."

Her words stung like freezing ice. She was right in every way. That he was beneath human...That he wasn't the executioner... He just wished he realized it sooner when it was coming from his best friend...

"Karen... I know that I've reached a point of no return. This...identity... It's a part of me... Even now, I'm not sure if I..."

"I don't want to stop" is what he wanted to say, but the words were caught tightly in his throat, leaving him silent.

Karen kept her gaze at the floor, not able to keep her tears from dripping onto the floor. Before Matt could even continue, she spoke.

"Matt, I...don't wanna hear anymore."

The man felt chills run up his spine, unsure of what to do.

"This...thing... I'm not sure I can handle this...Not... I..."

The woman stumbled with her words, no longer sure if she could even find the will to talk without breaking down entirely.

"Goodbye, Matt."

Karen hastily grabbed the leather bag, slipping it over her shoulder. Not even glancing towards the man's direction, she made her way to the exit, no longer able to stay in the same room as him.

Matt sat there in silence, noticing her presence still at the outside of the door. Her heart was beating a thousand times, tears starting to become uncontrollable. For a moment, he was worried she was suffering a panic attack. Every sense in his mind was begging him to go out there and comfort her. To hold her tight until she cried herself out...

But he knew that he was the last person she would want around him at the moment. 

After a few minutes, he noticed her presence drift away. Further, and further, to the point she was completely out of his range of sense.

Matt didn't move for a long time, the crimson helmet still resting in his lap, as if it was a infant child... He could feel his eyes grow watery, but really could not find it in himself to start sobbing. The man leaned the back of his head against the wall, breathing slow as he tried to calm himself, the guilt eating away from him at the inside. 

He never thought he would ever make Karen cry to the point of breaking down, that it pained him so much just thinking about what just occured. She deserved so much more... They all deserved so much more than Matt Murdock.

The cold wind rattled against the cheap windows of Nelson and Murdock. All he could hear was the sound of snow falling and wind billowing. The city finally grew silent during the cold, winter night.

Matt brought his head towards his hands, leaning forward in his chair as he stared blankly at the floor. His heart felt as if it was disintegrating into sand. At least he was able to finally apologize, he thought to himself... He no longer had to betray her trust...

So why, did he still feel so much agony in his heart?

 

"Do you believe in the Devil, Father?"

Matt sat down in the dining hall, feeling his knuckles bruised and battered. Still, it felt...natural. Over time, he supposed he got used to the constant feeling of worn, tired hands. 

"You mean... as a concept?" said Father Lantom, pouring himself a cup of freshly brewed coffee. The weather outside was harsh and cold... Matt had nowhere left to turn to... He needed to make sure he was still on the path he believed was justice...

"No. Do you believe he exists? In this world, among us."

Lantom raised his eyebrows slightly at Matt's curiosity. He sounded similar to a young adolescent, curious and beginning to question the beliefs of a catholic. Still, he didn't bother to press him as to why he decided to ask, simply giving him a quick response... 

"You want the short answer or the long one?"

"Just the truth," Matt said, tone slightly troubled. Despite his faith in a higher power...He was growing unsure in who he was becoming...Who his real enemy was.

Fisk was gaining support by the second. Matt needed to be rid of any doubt as soon as possible. He listened intently as Father Lantom placed his cup gingerly onto the table, hands resting in his lap as he began his story...

"When I was in seminary, I was more studious, than pious. More... skeptical than most of my peers," he said. 

"I had this notion, which I was more than willing to speak about, at length, to whoever I could corner. That the Devil... was inconsequential. Minor figure in the grand scheme."

"Not very Catholic of you," Matt said, finding the irony in the situation.

"Uh-huh, yeah. In my defense, in the scriptures, the Hebrew word "Satan"... actually means "adversary." It's applied to any antagonist. Angels and humans, serpents and kings... Medieval theologians reinterpreted those passages to be about a single monstrous enemy. And, in my youthful zeal, I was certain I knew why; Propaganda. Played up to drive people into the church."

Lantom remained serious throughout his speech, all while retaining eye contact with Matt.

"So, you don't believe he exists."

"Am I done talking?"

Matt promptly closed his mouth as quickly as he opened it. He gave a quick sorry to the man, letting him continue his lecture. Lantom gave a bit of a shrug in his posture, before continuing. It was here, his face grew a bit more troubled...

"Years later, I was in Rwanda, trying to help local churches provide aid and sanctuary to refugees. I'd become close with the village elder, Gahiji. He and his family had the respect of everybody, Hutu and Tutsi alike. He'd helped them all. Through famines... disease. The militia liked to force Hutu villagers to murder their neighbors... with machetes. But nobody would raise a hand against Gahiji," said Lantom. Matt couldn't help but grow more curious at what the man was saying, his focus now becoming more on Lantom's words and body language. 

"They said, well... how can we kill such a holy man?..."

"So the militia commander sent soldiers, with orders to cut his head off... in front of the entire village. Gahiji didn't try to put up a fight. Just asked for the chance to say goodbye to his family. By the time he was done, even the soldiers didn't wanna kill him. So they went to their commander and asked permission to shoot him. At least give him a quick death..."

Lantom hesitated for a moment, lump growing in his throat, a sign of regret.

"The commander wanted to meet this man who had won the respect of so many. He went to Gahiji... talked with him in his hut, for many hours. Then he dragged him out in front of his village and hacked him to pieces... along with his entire family."

Matt's expression hardened at the father's words, sensing the empathy from the man... His guilt... Feelings that couldn't be felt with enhanced senses alone.

"In that man who took Gahiji's life... I saw the Devil."

The man took a quick sip from his cup, still able to keep his composure, while Matt felt as if he gained a whole new sense of what was morally right and wrong.

"So yes, Matthew... I believe he walks among us...Taking many forms..." finished Lantom. Matt couldn't help but feel things grow with a much finer clarity than before... Still, there was one thing that plagued him deeply... Something he wanted to know from the man sitting before him...

"What if you could have stopped him?... From ever hurting anyone again?"

Father Lantom remained silent for a few moments, before finally giving Matt his answer...

"Stopped him how?"

 

Part of him wished he could have seen what would lie ahead of him... What he experience after the calm ended, the storm soon approaching... Ever since he had donned the suit... It slowly grew more difficult to be able to separate what was considered justice...

Wilson Fisk... Frank Castle...

...Elektra Natchios...

Matt was no longer sure what made him different from all of them, other than the fact he had never spilt blood.

He felt...tainted.

Tainted to the point of no return...

Maybe this life...this loneliness... Perhaps it was something he deserved in the end... Something he unintentionally earned...

All at the cost of his best friends despising him... the cost of being unable to stop Frank Castle... the death of the only person who truly understood him, who he loved with a burning passion...

Perhaps this was it for Matthew Murdock, he thought to himself, sitting alone in the dimly lit, cold office of what used to be his sanctuary of loved ones, all to show for it being the pathetic helmet resting in his lap...


	2. Trial and Error

"So...Where was I? Right, so... Trials number seven through eighteen were a bust… Not so much improvement after six. So far, the web can stick pretty well, actually. The problem should be obvious by now that it tears apart too easily. Onto to trial nineteen, I suppose. Added a bit more adhesive to the formula...starting to run low on the super-glue. But I think I finally figured out a solution for the tearing. So, there’s this one thing in Mythbusters where they try to escape a building using only rope made out of toilet paper, and I think I can incorporate that into the webbing before loading it. So, see, what I did was I started kneading the fibers to get better elasticity beforehand, while twirling the strands together like in the show. Should work better now...I hope. If not… Just gonna try plan B."   
  
Peter shifted his position towards the center of the camera once again after halting the footage for a moment. Every experimental item needed test footage, right? Add in the massive amount of notes he had stored in his dresser hidden underneath his clothing and he would probably have enough to write a comprehensive light novel at this point.   
  


Getting to work, Peter began his prep. Who knew the permanently empty drawer would come in handy someday, as the boy opened it up to reveal a makeshift lab containing all sorts of chemical items and containers. If Peter were to describe himself in one word, it would most likely be “resourceful”.

 

Grabbing the set of knitting needles and the container containing what he dubbed “web fluid”, Peter slowly softened the mixture as if it were dough being prepped for the oven. Only difference was that this was not bread, so he just had to make sure to keep his skin away from the substance. Did not need a repeat of last time, nor did he need another pair of ruined gloves.

 

After three or so minutes of kneading and mixing, Peter figured it was time to load up the gauntlets...no, gauntlets sounded too medieval. Perhaps just stick to the web-shooter name. Keep the whole spider theme going. The shooters themselves were quite the job, the boy making use of a few plastic toy guns he found in the garbage, along with some medical test tubes that he stabbed holes into for a clear exit point. Rest assured, he cleaned all his supplies thoroughly. 

 

Popping the vials open, Peter loaded them to the brim with the web fluid, sealing the lid back on tight. After placing them into the chamber, the boy slipped one of the web-shooters, using his unarmed hand to start the footage back up. Making sure he the center of the camera's shot, Peter aimed his arm towards a small cardboard target that had been duct taped to the ceiling. The boy stiffened his posture and clenched his teeth, prepping himself in case he ended up flat on the floor once again. 

 

“Okay, let’s go ahead and begin. Trial number  _ diecinueve _ , in three, two, one.”

 

Giving the green light, Peter pulled his middle and ring finger to the button on his palm. With that, the chamber shot out a thin, nylon-like thread, sticking into a large clump on the intended target. Phase one seemed to be successful, but now came the real test. Almost immediately after the silk attached itself to the target, Peter forced his body off of his chair, gripping tightly onto the web with his legs raised. 

 

…

 

The young man opened his eyes in surprise once he realized that he was now suspended in mid-air with the only thing that supporting him was his now-successful web-fluid formula and web-shooters. It did not take long for that initial surprise to become happiness.

 

“Yes! Oh my god, yes! Thank you, mythbusters!” exclaimed the boy in a satisfied attitude. Both ecstatic and exhausted, Peter faced the camera, glee and dark rings in his eyes painting his face. Despite the constant desire of wanting to take a little quick nap waving over his mind, Peter felt prideful at his accomplishment. No longer would he have to worry about falling out of his adrenaline-filled momentum and eating concrete at max velocity.

  
“Okay, okay, so the new formula works great! No, no, “Amazing” is a better way to describe it! Only complaint is that it takes forever to spin the webs, but absolutely worth it in the end! This is, I’m speechless! I-”

 

Caught up in his excited ramblings, it took him a few seconds too late to realize that the ceiling was making a sound that no normal ceiling should make. It was here when the duct tape finally gave out, causing the kid to fall with the grace of a elephant.

 

Laying on the floor, a soft pained groan escaped Peter's lips, and with perfect comedic timing, brought his hand up to fiddle with the camera until bringing his finger to the power button. The footage cut to black, the boy still resting on the floor, not feeling very motivated to get up for a while…

 

Despite all the irritating roadblocks he's been through, Peter is starting to believe he's slowly getting the hang of this whole superhero/vigilante thing… No, vigilante sounded too illegal. Then again, Bruce Banner did technically start out as a wanted criminal. No, he told himself. It wasn't exactly the same. For a while, he would usually ponder what made him different from a vigilante with the route he wanted to take. People would always debate the difference, and ever since the whole ordeal in Sokovia, the rift between hero and criminal only grew.

 

The boy pondered for days about what was the difference, but couldn't come up with a definitive answer in the end, other than superheroes were usually those who were known by entire nations. Those who were called in when the national guard weren't enough. Yes, he did know the whole definition of a hero wasn't limited to those with powers. In the end, Peter figured he would have to work his way up to earn the title of a hero.

 

It was at times like this, he would often scold himself for thinking purely out of fame. It was shameful, no matter what excuse he thought of, to simply become a hero for the hope of being a celebrity. Heck, even celebrities who already had all the fame in the world used that to help those in need. Maybe he should take reference from Tony Stark some more… He did get some of the color scheme for his costume from the Mark Twenty-Seven armor, so there's that. It was one of the two figures of Iron Man he owned as a kid, of course he was going to take reference from that. It was a huge nostalgia bonus!... Where was he again?

 

Right, fame should not be a priority for becoming a sorta-vigilante superhero. Though, it wouldn't hurt to see kids running through the streets wearing his own merch one day. Even a little keychain of Spider-Man would be nice…

 

Peter couldn't help but give a lion's yawn as he laid down. Was he always this exhausted?... Maybe he should just rest his eyes for a bit, yeah. Five...maybe ten minutes at least. He still had plenty of time before May got off of work.

 

“Okay, five minutes…” said Peter, pulling a pillow off of his bed and onto the floor with him, resting his head on top. Letting his eyes droop, he felt his mind relax, the ache in his head growing numb with each second… He really needed to set up a schedule. His time management was already complete garbage…

  
  


...

  
  


“Peter! I'm home!”

 

The boy's eyes shot wide open once he realized he drifted into dreamland on the floor. Exactly how long was he asleep?! Not even bothering to check his clock, Peter quickly ran in a haste to get everything hidden away. The boy couldn't stop himself from letting out a quick yelp in shock once he realized the container with his web fluid was still open, a decent chunk of the material dissolving away due to exposure from the air.

 

“Pete, are you alright in there?” said May, still fiddling with her keys in the living room. “Uh, yeah! Totally!” Peter responded, quickly fastening the lid onto the container, tossing both it and the web-shooters back into the drawer. “Just stubbed my toe, I think! Everything's good!”

 

Tossing his camera back where it belonged, right next to his computer, Peter had just one issue left to take care of, looking at the scattered webbing along with the duct taped cardboard still stuck to the floor. He was running out of time, he didn't have enough to bring the vacuum in here without May asking questions! He just had to use the time-efficient solution for now, knowing he would regret it later as he swept the mess underneath his bed. It was going to make clean-up much harder later in the afternoon, but some sacrifices had to be made for the greater good.

 

“Okay...Okay,” Peter mumbled to himself, attempting to catch his breath from his initial panic. After a few seconds at attempting to restore his previous composure, Peter walked out of his bedroom, stepping into the hall to finally greet his aunt. Seeing as she was in the process of handling a few bags of groceries, Peter, being the helpful schmuck he is, quickly went over to pull the bags from her arms and brought them over to the counter.

 

“Thanks, hun,” said May after managing to pull her keys out of the door’s lock. “There’s some more downstairs in the car. Think you can bring them up?”

 

Peter nodded, giving a quick “Yeah, of course,” before being handed the keys to the car and taking off to the apartment hallways. He was surprised his calves didn’t double in size after they moved into this place. Hauling up bags of food over several floors got repetitive pretty fast...Then again, they did have the elevator, so… Yeah, his complaints were soon unjustified as he made his way downstairs to the main lobby and towards his aunt’s accord. There was also the fact that his methods of gathering groceries were...irritating to May, to say the least.

 

Of course he expected an eye roll from her once he returned, carrying every bag in one trip. Could you really blame him for being efficient though?

 

“Parker, if I see as much as one cracked eggshell, you’ll be doing the shopping from now on,” his aunt scolded. After many failed attempts to convince him that it was not a good way to carry the food that would sustain them for the next week, she just gave up and gave warnings to get her point across. Peter knew well never to cross her, as he made sure to gingerly set each bag down as if they were newborn infants. He knew all too well the reason why no one ever questioned her parenting methods in ages, as her warnings were never meant to be taken lightly. If only he could warn that one lady at the clothing aisle...

 

Still, Peter was a angel, so it was never at the point that she was a strict parent. He had plenty of freedom for a fourteen-year old. Once he was able to prove his responsibility, and after plenty of pleading, the boy no longer needed a babysitter once he turned eleven. Even at the age of nine, May got him a Metro Card in case of a serious emergency, still using it to this day to get around town. That was about to change soon, of course, as Peter’s mind began drifting back to his web-shooters as he stored away cans of food in the kitchen. Well, not much in change, since he couldn’t exactly web-sling his way to school...Still, this new gear he was creating was going to make patrolling the city that much easier...once he stopped smashing into street lights, that is...and flying pigeons...and that one kid’s toy helicopter that one time, even though he apologized and even offered to fix it for no charge at all!

 

Perhaps he should attempt to refine his kinesthetic sense a bit more, he told himself. Was it even possible to refine a kinesthetic sense though? Maybe there were some training exercises he could look up and practice after dinner. 

  
The afternoon seemed to go as expected. Not that it was a bad thing, of course. Whenever May had the afternoon off, Peter usually enjoyed it. Yes, he couldn’t exactly work on Spider-Man whenever someone else was in the house, but he was still Peter Parker, and that was the person May wanted to spend time with when getting the chance to do so. It was refreshing to have someone around the house as well. Also gave him some time to work on his cooking skills, as the two did their fair share when preparing dinner. Peter usually did what he could when getting dinner ready, taking on the more simpler dishes while May handled the food that required some more experience. Yeah, he’ll admit that his aunt was a better cook than him, even though her success rate was around 75% not burning in the oven… Maybe 70%. Luckily, the fire department didn’t need to be notified tonight, the two eating at the table, though Peter not doing much talking, prodding at the steak on his plate with a silver fork. After his initial excitement calmed, his exhaustion was starting to come into play.

 

“You feeling alright, Pete?” asked May, slight hint of concern in her tone. It was rare to see him not eat the food on his plate in less than ten minutes. Usually he would be licking his plate at this point. Peter looked up from his meal, eyes wide as soon as he realized he was zoning out. “Oh, uh, yeah. Just got a lot on my mind is all…” he said, looking a bit flustered. He really needed to stop doing that, but he just couldn’t help it with the Spider-Man project on his mind. It just made him even more excited to go out later tomorrow and try patrolling Queens with his new tech. Finally teach those thugs and rogue pigeons what happens when you mess with the Spider-Man!

 

“Oh, that reminds me. Something came in the mail today and I already think you know what I’m talking about,” said his aunt, using her educational priority mom voice. Reaching over to her purse, May pulled out a crisp white envelope that was already torn open. The boy’s eyes went wide once he noticed the wording in the clear plastic window of the letter, memories snapping back into place.

 

_ Peter Parker _

_ 20 Ingram St, Queens, NY U.S.A _

_ Midtown School of Science and Technology _

 

“...Right. That.” Peter said hesitantly.

  
  
  
  
  


The Midtown School of Science and Technology, or MSST when abbreviated. Established in the year of 1962, it was considered to be possibly the best education providers in New York, due to how much funding the school received from the results of their students being mostly positive grades. It was also known for creating many famous alumni, ranging from famed medical figures to influential politicians. Even the current principle was something to be amazed by, being a descendant of a freaking Howling Commando! The idea of Peter going there was simply nothing more than a pipe dream for the most part. That is, until the scholarship program was introduced to him in junior high. Apparently, it was a honor to even be considered for the scholarship, as Peter was ranked among the top of his school during junior high. So, yeah. Pretty big deal. As for the scholarship program itself, it was rumored that the only reason it was initiated was, and quote, too much “new money” kids. The theory did make a bit sense. Not enough bright kids would result in a fund decrease with the way the american education system worked. Then again, who was he to complain? He was getting to go to the best school in New York for free!

 

There was just one, tinsy winsy little catch…

 

_ The internship program. _

 

This is where the theory gained its supporting evidence. As a part of training the next generation of society, as the school so kindly stated, many businesses, both large and small, were requested to apply to the project and through random selection, receive one of MSST’s students as a intern for the majority of their four years in high school. Seemed like a fair trade off for free labor.

 

Of course at the time, it was a small price to pay for free education.

 

Now, with Spider-Man being a factor in his daily life…

 

Peter was mentally cursing at himself for completely forgetting about the internship, after so many reminders that his letter would arrive later in his winter break. It was going to happen eventually, with only two weeks remaining in his vacation. Just...Why, though?! Part of him really didn’t want to do this, while the other was telling him to man up and do it like the ~~boss~~  responsible student he was.

 

Eventually, his responsible half won the battle, finally snapping out of his internal contention once he realized that May was still in the process of telling him about time management or something.

 

“They already have your emergency card, but I still want you to carry a charger just in case.  I know I don’t have to remind you, but promise you’ll call if something happens, alright?”

 

“Yeah, sure. No need to worry,” said Peter, pretending he got everything she said. “I’ll be on my best behavior, trust me.”

His aunt gave a sigh before handing him the letter. “I know you will,” she said with a hint of pride in her voice, making the boy blush a bit. Suddenly, the part that didn’t want him to take this program slowly began to disappear the more he ate. He could do this. Just balance work, school, family, and superhero duties all in his daily schedule… Things were only going to get harder once school started back up.

 

“ _ Remember the keychains _ ,” Peter mentally encouraged himself, scarfing down what was left of his meal…

  
  
  
  
  


“Nelson & Murdock?”

 

Peter laid in his bed, fresh out of the shower and in his standard sleepwear, thoroughly examining the letter he held in his hands. The name sounded familiar. He just could not recall for the life of him what it was… Reaching for his phone, Peter entered the office’s address to see what he could find. To his surprise, the results were mostly positive. Hundreds of reviews were mostly 4/5s, claiming that Nelson & Murdock were low budget lawyers responsible for many pro-bono cases. Leaving it at that, Peter felt himself calm a bit at the thought of working there. He felt so out of place in large business buildings, always having eyes directed at him like he was a hawk. Nelson & Murdock seemed like the kind of business that focused mainly on cases for a desire to help people and slowly build a trustworthy reputation without the need of large funds. Who knew, it could have even been fate that he was assigned to this location. Grabbing at the page once again, Peter brought up the location once more in hopes of finding some form of contact information.

 

“Gotcha,” the boy muttered under his breath as he reached for his smartphone, opening up the keypad.

 

To his dismay, the first number simply went to voicemail. Still, it was starting to get late. Maybe they closed early? If so, would it be reasonable to contact the lawyers themselves? He tried once again, this time dialing the second number recorded onto the letter… Peter felt his disappointment grow once he heard the automated voice message repeat itself again. What was he to do? He had to meet with his employers soon, and all he was getting was the oddly-sensual robot lady voice. Looking over the letter again, he was relieved once realizing that they accepted walk-in appointments, their hours opening at 9:00 AM sharp. Peter figured he could make the trip. Hell’s Kitchen wasn’t that far of a ride from Queens, being around a little more than half an hour away. He would have to rely on his GPS for the most part, but it seemed doable. He’d wake up, put on his best winter clothes, say goodbye to May before she leave to work, stop by Mr. Delmar’s bodega for a quick breakfast, get to the station and on the first train to Hell’s Kitchen, and have everything taken care of by lunch… Maybe it was easier said than done, Peter thought to himself… Then again, he didn’t have much of a choice.

 

Could be quicker if he brought the suit with him…

 

…

 

Forcing himself out of his sleep, Peter came up with a idea on how to kill two birds with one stone. He’d have to clean out his backpack though…Okay, bed now in order to wake up early and get everything ready. It was going to be a tight schedule, but he knew it would be worth it in the end. For both Peter Parker and Spider-Man. For now though, he was just happy to be laying down on a soft surface and not having to think for the next eight hours or so…

  
  
  
  
  


After texting May that he arrived at the location, Peter felt optimistic. The winter wind had begun to calm itself, he was dressed as best as he could while taking the weather into account, and he still had a few minutes to spare, considering not many cars were parked around the place yet. Reaching the front entrance, he noticed that something just...it felt off. The building had little to no sound, just the noise of what the boy believed to be shuffling papers. Maybe it was just his imagination. He was still getting used to his senses, so of course they would be a little off for now, needing to adjust to new locations every so often.

 

Taking the first step into the building, Peter only felt a bit more nervous. He never really had to prep for a interview before. Looking at each door, he felt his anxiety skyrocket once he finally arrived at the office. No more hesitation. Just bite the bullet, he told himself. With that, Peter entered the firm, only to be met with a room filled with boxes, and a man standing before him, just as surprised as he was…

 

The man seemed to be a bit taller than Peter, standing at around 5’9-ish? He also had somewhat of a husky body type and long shaggy blonde hair. Standing in awkward silence, Peter finally managed to speak up…

 

“Um, this is Nelson and Murdock, right? I, um...I wanted to see if I could borrow some time and speak with them about a internship program,” Peter said, thinking carefully about his speech as he spoke aloud. He didn’t exactly sound very confident though, so he had to fix that quick. However, he felt a disappointed emotion wash over him as he heard the man sigh, hand in head.

 

“Um, kid, I...really hate to be the person to tell you this, but we just finished selling this place. Sorry.”

Peter couldn’t help but give a similar sigh, not sure what to do. The place was sold? What exactly could he do now?

 

“Is there any way to get in touch with the lawyers who worked here?” he said, trying not to get his hopes up. The man couldn’t help but give a soft chuckle, before attempting to put on a smile. “Well, you’re looking at one of them. Franklin “Foggy” Nelson.” he said, holding his hand out to formally introduce himself to the boy.

 

Peter felt his regret hit a new low, not even recognizing one of his employers right away. Putting on a quick confident smile at a attempt to hide his anxiety, Peter took Foggy’s hand with a somewhat strong grip to assert a solid impression. “Parker, Peter. Peter Parker.”

 

“Um, quite the grip you have there, kid,” said Foggy, shaking his hand in a attempt to fix his blood flow. Peter was honestly impressed at how much he was keeping his composure at the moment. Taking a few more steps inside, he allowed his eyes to drift around the room, many boxes that were filled to the brim with used office supplies. “So...You really sold the place, huh?” he said, still trying to figure out what he should do now… 

 

“...Yeah,” Foggy replied, a slight hint of discourse in his voice. He looked just as stumped as Peter, unsure of what to say. He could feel the guilt build up in his chest, not wanting to send this kid off with no other choice. He thought for a moment about talking to Hogarth about bringing the boy on board, but knew very well that she would be against the idea. Still, he didn’t want to push the kid onto the streets. It be the equivalent of kicking a small puppy. He stood there in silence, until coming up with a temporary solution...It meant having to swallow his pride, but he really did not have a choice here.

 

So, putting on his usual charisma, Foggy faced the boy once more and pulled out a pen and small business card from his pocket. “Look, Peter… There really is not much I can do to help you here. What I can do, is give you the contact information to the other guy who worked here. You know, the Murdock half.”

 

Peter felt himself perk up as he watched Mr.Nelson sign several numbers and what looked to be a address onto the back of the card. Maybe he still had some luck after all. “Really? Th-that would be great! Thank you, Mr.Nelson-er, Foggy, um...Can I call you Foggy?”

 

Foggy attempted to stifle a laugh, finding himself enjoying the kid’s presence… He would’ve made a great addition to the office if, well…

 

“Here. My contact information is on there as well if you hit any more speed bumps on the way...and sorry for the inconvenience.”

 

“No, it’s alright! Thank you again! Really appreciate the help,” Peter said in a quick voice, trying to keep himself from rambling. “Thanks again,” he said once more, bidding goodbye to Foggy as he proceeded to leave the building.

 

Once the kid was gone, Foggy felt the smile hinder slightly. The office would’ve been more lively with some fresh blood around… But there was no point in wishing to change the past… Forcing himself towards the door, he took the screwdriver in his pocket, and began to work on removing the sign.

  
  
  
  


This was it...Hopefully. Part of him wished this didn’t end up in a wild goose chase. The building itself seemed pretty well made. Then again, it was built in a pretty bad spot in town, so he figured no one was jumping at the chance to buy it. Was he even here though, Mr. Murdock? What if he was out for the day?...Then it wouldn’t hurt to at least knock, he supposed. Sucking in his anxieties, not wanting to have history repeat itself, Peter brought his fist up to the door, giving a few knocks before waiting in silence…

 

Peter stood in the hallway for what seemed to be a while. Eventually, seconds grew into minutes. He then found himself sitting against the wall, waiting patiently for a man who probably was not going to come.

 

Maybe Mr.Murdock wasn’t home. He knew it was too good to be true. That all his problems would be solved so easily. His schedule was already messed up beyond repair. Maybe he should just go back home and try again tomorrow…

 

As he was about to leave the hallway, the boy’s ears pricked up at the sound of a door unlocking. Turning himself back at the door, he finds himself struck with a powerful odor, not able to exactly describe it. Standing in front of him was a man, possibly in his early 40s, wearing only a black short sleeved shirt, grey sweatpants, and a pair of tinted glasses sitting upon his face.

 

Peter looked stunned, staring in disbelief that this was THE Matt Murdock.

 

Matt looked at the kid with the same surprised expression, no idea why there was a shocked teenage boy standing in front of his door...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this chapter is much larger than the first. Hope this satisfies. Mostly swapping from POV, trying to get as I can from both of each character's source material.


	3. Salt Pillars

_ The day was beautiful. No harsh winds, bright sunlight soothing his skin, it gave a relaxing sensation to Matt's body, his attitude quite relaxed.  _

 

_ Hasn't been for a long time.  _

 

_ Walking along the sidewalks of the city, he felt even more satisfied to hear the sounds of children playing in glee, happy as could be in the small playground lot.  _

 

_ Sensing her presence, Matt approached the lady from behind, clicking his cane in half to gain her attention. _

 

_ “I thought you already knew I don't like to be followed,” said Elektra, Matt easily sensing slight discourse in her voice… _

 

_ “Sorry. Figured I'd find you here,” Matt said, standing by her side as he faced the playground. Their night ended on a bad note, the two getting into a heated argument. It made him a bit guilty to wake up alone in bed. He noticed Elektra messing with her ring, eyes directed at the children… _

 

_ “Are you okay?” he said, concern in his voice. Of course it seemed like a stupid question, but he knew that she adored any form of affection and care...Especially from Matt. Still, she was silent for a while, her heart slowly rising in beats as she continued to watch a small child being cared for by two adults, clearly being the child's parents. _

 

_ “Matt… Do you like kids?” _

 

_ Matt was not expecting such a response, words caught in his throat as he was unsure what to say. “What do you mean?” he said, facing her, trying to decipher her body language… _

 

_ “Well, not now. Our lives are too hectic as it is, but if I wanted to start a family, wh-...if we decide to settle down, would you want a child?” _

 

_ “Do you?” Matt replied, not being able to tell what she was feeling. His senses, as powerful as they were, weren't always as  great with sensing emotions. _

 

_ “Ever since I was a little girl,” she said. “I always wanted to know what it felt like to be a mother. Care for someone in a way no one else could replicate… Do you?” _

 

_ Matt couldn't help but smile, bringing his arm around his wife and pulling her to his side, planting a soft kiss on her forehead…  _

 

_ It was these kinds of moments that really made her blush. Not the intimate, sexual drive that gave her the confidence of a tiger, but simply being treated with his kind words. Something she rarely experienced throughout the majority of her early life... Matt was more than willing to speak until his voice gave out, as long as it made her happy. _

 

_ “You always said you loved the unexpected,” Matt said, noticing her attempt to stop a smile from forming.  _

 

_ “I never said that. It was implied.” _

 

_ Matt couldn't help but smile at her expense, the tension slowly being drifted away the closer they were… _

 

_ “So...Yes or no?” Elektra said, breath hesitant. She already knew the answer, but hearing Matt say it himself would mean the world… _

 

_ “I-” _

  
  


…

  
  


Matt felt his body rouse up, ears blaring in a slight pain as he heard several knocks from outside. He really needed to slow down on the alcohol. Waking up like this was painful already as it is. Lying on his bed, nothing but a pair of silk boxers covering his scarred body. 

 

Was Winter always this unforgiving, he thought? Freezing nearly to death, Matt reached over his bed to find his clothes from the night before, dressing himself after what seemed like an eternity of staring at the ceiling, despite the lack of actual sight. He looked over at the scattered aluminum cans of booze, mentally cursing himself for letting him get carried away once again. There was no justifying this. Not his trouble with sleeping, not his behavior, not signing away the office… 

 

God, it sounded as if his mind was a broken record player. Listing away his regrets was not going to help him move forward. The past was gone. It was time to start living in the now, Matt Murdock…

 

And right now, he needed to piss. Badly… and maybe a shower. And not just standing in water. An actual shower with soap.

 

Heading off to the bathroom, Matt went in to do his business. Still, something felt...different. Like he was being watched. Was it simply his paranoia?... Now he was wishing he didn't drink so much the night before, otherwise he'd be able to tell left from right. Flushing the toilet and washing his hands in the sink, Matt gazed at himself in the mirror, his silhouette resembling that of a poor man surrounded a field of flames... Feeling along his face, he curved his fingers along the dark rings underneath his eyes... Did he always seem this exhausted?

 

The man couldn't help but find pity at himself. Everyone else already managed to move on with their lives, and here he was, still acting like a idiot when he should be searching for clients. His savings weren't going to last forever. Splashing his face with water, Matt stepped back into his living room, walking towards the fridge for something to drink and rid himself of the awful taste in his mouth. 

 

Pulling the lid off of the plastic pitcher of water, Matt felt his ears prick up once again, wincing slightly as some liquid dribbled down his shirt, his head throbbing with a constant, chronic pain. Pulling the pitcher away from his lips and setting it back down on the table, he looked around his apartment once again. No one was hiding in the shadows this time...he hoped. Did he have rats now?

 

After examining his living quarters for quite a while, Matt couldn't help but overhear a sigh coming from beyond his door… His mind went back to the knocking from before. 

 

...Shit, how long did he keep them waiting?

 

Matt attempted to hone in further onto the person outside, but his mind was dazed enough as to restrict him to a weak range of senses. Managing to find the ability to walk in a straight line once again, Matt walked over to the door, stopping for a moment to pick up his glasses from their spot on the ground.

 

Opening the door, Matt found himself staring at the presence of someone...extremely young. He seemed to be in the middle of leaving, considering how far away he was from the entrance. Matt looked stunned, a slight scent of fresh cologne attacking his nostrils. From what he could gather from his blurred vision, the silhouette looked like the body of a teenage boy, body language all over the place.

 

“Can I...help you with something?” Matt asked hesitantly, wondering if the boy was going to move at any moment now. The young man stuttered with his speech, clearly caught off-guard before managing to speak up once again.

 

“Oh, I- oh crap, is this a bad time? I'm so sorry, I should, um...”

 

“No, it's fine. Mind telling me why you're here though?” Matt asked, trying not to sound rude and hopefully calm the kid down. Maybe it was a client?...Right, a teenage boy was in need of a drunken lawyer who lived in the bad part of Hell's Kitchen.

 

“Oh. My name is Peter Parker, sir. From Midtown high? You and your old partner signed for the internship program?”

 

…

 

…

 

“Oh, shit,” Matt mentally told himself, the memory instantly snapping back into place. It was sometime in the summer earlier in the year, when Karen introduced them to the offer they were sent.

 

_ “An intern, huh?” _

 

_ “Free labor and they pay us? Is that even legal?” Foggy said, reclining against the wall, biting into a slice of peach cobbler. _

 

_ Even though Foggy and Karen seemed to be on board, Matt was a bit hesitant on the idea. The place was crowded enough with three adults alone, a high schooler just...felt out of place here. Then again, they could use an extra pair of hands, considering their skyrocketing popularity...and a air conditioner. _

 

_ It was a pretty hefty sum of cash that they were being offered. It seemed foolish to turn it down. So, after some much needed convincing, Matt finally agreed to let the firm participate in the program, having Foggy sign “Matthew Murdock” among the three names with their consent. _

  
  
  


“Mr.Murdock? Are you feeling alright?” said Peter, still standing in the hallway, papers in hand. “We can schedule this another time, if you want. I don't mind if-”

 

“No, it's fine,” Matt said, not wanting to drive the boy away. “Please, step inside.” he said, guiding him through the door and into his apartment.

 

Already, he noticed Peter brush at his nose slightly before bringing it back to the papers. Was the smell really  _ that _ bad? “Sorry about the mess. Didn't think you'd show up without your school notifying me.”

 

“Well, to be fair, Mr. Murdock… your office number is no longer active. I wasn't exactly sure how to get into touch until I did a bit of digging.” the boy said. Matt felt the sting to his pride once again. Talk about first impressions. This boy came prepared to leave a positive impression on Matt, and here he was, still in his sleepwear at 10:30 in the morning. “I guess so,” he said, trying to sound confident. Usually Foggy was the charismatic one. 

 

“Peter, right? You drink coffee?”

 

The young man looked up from the papers in his hands, facing Matt once again. “Oh. Not really. Coffee and I...don't get along too well,” he said, tilting his view away from Matt. “Thank you, though.”

 

Matt found himself smiling at his flustered state as he began to make himself a cup. “I see. Too bitter?”

 

“No, Sir, um… Too caffeinated,” he muttered under his breath. Matt couldn't help but smirk a bit. This boy was really something. Always stopping after each sentence, worried that he said something wrong...It was endearing in some fashion. Reminded him that Peter was still pretty young… 

 

Come to think of it...

 

“So, Mr. Parker. Mind telling me how old you are?” Matt asked, brewing a pot of coffee over the stove, to Peter's surprise. The glasses were usually a giveaway that Matt had difficulty seeing, so it always seemed surprising to see a blind man so independent… 

 

To be honest, even Matt was surprised at how quickly he changed his attitude at the presence of some plucky, unannounced kid.

 

“Oh. I turned fourteen a few months back. Just starting out high school, sir,” he said in a more steady tone. Good. He was getting used to Matt's presence. He was saying “sir” quite a lot, though. 

 

“Please, call me Matt,” he said, pouring the dark liquid into his mug.

 

“Oh, sorry Mr- I mean, Matt.”

 

Pulling out a carton of milk, Matt poured another cup for the boy before making his way over to where Peter sat, a spot that seemed the least messy. Matt placed the two cups on the coffee table, pushing aside some old folders so he could sit and talk comfortably. Peter hesitated for a moment until finally realizing that the drink was for him, picking it up with one hand, setting the papers down on the table.

 

“Thank you, Mr. Murdock” he said in a generous tone, even though he quickly forgot about the invitation to call Matt by his first name. He seemed well-mannered. When first applying for the program, Matt was worried they were going to get a wild and unwelcoming kid, but Peter managed to surpass his expectations in such short time.

 

“So, Peter… If you don't mind me asking, how did you find my personal address?” he asked, genuinely curious. Peter choke slightly on his drink, before quickly regaining his composure and turning his eyes back towards Matt.

 

“Ah, that… Well, I went over to your old office and...Call it luck, I guess, but I ran into one of your old co-workers. Mr. Nelson.”

 

Matt internally winced at the mention of Foggy. What exactly was he doing at the office? They already sold the place after officially disbanding the business. There was nothing left for them there.

 

“He seemed pretty nice, to be honest. He gave me a card with your address on it and, well… I guess I should've called ahead of time. Sorry about coming in like this,” Peter said with a apologetic tone.

 

“It's alright, Peter,” Matt said, quickly attempting to recover the conversation. “I'm glad you showed up when you did. I was told that you were supposed to bring some papers for me?”

 

That was a lie. Matt just wanted to change the subject, so he shifted the discussion to the papers that Peter seemed very protective of.

 

“Oh, of course. They aren't in braille though… I can read it out loud, if you need me to,” he offered. Matt, relieved that Peter was already aware of his blindness, gave him the green light to start reading, sipping at his mug at a attempt to rid himself of his headache, listening intently to each word that Peter read…

 

If he had to be honest, it lifted a massive weight off of his chest to finally have someone else in his house, even if the boy had no choice… It seemed more than a week, maybe two when he last talked to someone for longer than a few minutes. Still, Matt knew pretty well that the boy didn't see it that way. He merely viewed Matt as a authority figure, treating him as he would his counselor or principle. If it wasn't for his generous behavior, Matt was sure he would have begged him to sign his papers right away and quickly leave this excuse for a clean apartment.

 

Yet here he was, still treating Matt with the utmost respect. It was foolish for him to grow hopeful though, knowing that this would simply remain a internship program. Still...It felt relieving to finally talk to someone, as sad as it sounds.

 

Peter made sure to keep a slow pace with his voice, possibly mimicking how a teacher would recite notes for Matt to comprehend what he was saying. The man kept his focus on Peter, making sure to keep up with what the papers said, ignoring the throb in his skull as he drank some more coffee. From what it sounded like, this internship was the only thing keeping Peter in a good school. 

 

It made him feel a slight twinge of regret to make the kid go through all this trouble just to make ends meet. Any thoughts that resulted in sending Peter off, telling him that his services weren't needed were quickly banished. To be fair, it would be nice to have someone around to help out. Maybe even seek out potential clients. He was still a practicing lawyer, office or not. There was no laws that said he couldn’t work from his home.

 

Once it seemed that Peter was done reading out the papers, before he even got a chance to speak up, Matt placed his mug down, standing up in search of a pen.

 

“Alright. Everything sounds to be in order. I'm sure I have to sign them, right?”

 

“Well, yeah, but…No disrespect, but can you really do that?” Peter said, genuinely curious if Matt knew how to sign his name.

 

“Nope,” Matt replied, popping the P sound. “Haven't done so in ages. How well is your handwriting?”

 

Peter seemed stunned from what Matt could tell, his posture growing straight. “Wait, you want me to forge your signature?!” he said, a bit surprised at Matt's suggestion.

 

“Absolutely,” he said. “Shouldn't be too hard, right?”

 

“Wha-What if my school finds out though?!”

 

“If it comes to that, I can come over, maybe give them a call and confirm that I gave my consent. Peter, I'm a lawyer. I've had people forge my signature on hundreds of important documents,” he said, hopefully putting the boy at ease.

 

“O-okay. I guess that makes sense,” Peter said, turning the pages to the section requiring Matt's signature. Handing the boy a pen, Peter then proceeded with careful hands, making sure to write with professional handwriting. After writing “Matthew Murdock” on several blank lines, he handed the pen back to Matt, still a bit nervous on having to forge the signature.

 

“All done. Are you sure this is okay though?”

 

“Positive,” Matt said, slipping the pen into his pocket. The kid seemed pretty anxious about this. Made a bit of sense, he supposed, considering MSST's high standards mentality. Guess that placed him in the same boat as the boy, meaning he was now on the school's radar.

 

After packing his papers away in his backpack, Matt decided he should get some other things out of the way, stopping the boy before he stood up, sitting back down to face him directly. 

 

“Peter, I should warn that, well it's pretty obvious by now that our current situation is a bit unorthodox. Before you get ready to leave, I'd like to discuss some things to make sure we're both on the same page. That alright with you?”

 

As expected, Peter agreed. The packet mentioned something about a copy of an emergency contact, but Matt figured it must have been lost during the transition away from the office. Still, Peter was more than willing to provide him with any information, recording his phone number onto Matt's list of contacts, along with his emergency contacts. He also threw in questions about Peter himself, how his home life was and how he was doing in school. To his surprise, the kid often had to stop himself from talking too much every now and again. Not that it was a problem though. It wasn't like Matt had much to share from his side, so he was glad to listen to what Peter had to say...

 

“Wait, so your phone is completely voice-automated?” Peter asked curiously, Matt giving him a nod for an answer. “21st century is great, ain't it?” he said with a joking manner. Peter couldn't stop himself from grinning, replying with, “Yeah, I guess it is.”

 

Noticing the sun now at its peak, Peter stood up with a quick jolt, almost knocking over his mug. “Noon already? Crud….Mr. Murdock, I'm sorry, but I really should be going,” he said as he threw his jacket back on, followed by his backpack. Matt raised his hand in a non-threatening gesture, smile on his face. “It's fine. Tell your aunt I hope to hear from you soon.”

 

“About that. Is tomorrow morning alright?” Peter asked, a bit of somber emotion in his voice. “My Aunt is working early, so I might as well come over and help with what I can…”

 

“That would be great, actually,” Matt said. It gave him a reason to actually wake up at a reasonable time. Who knew, from one meeting with the kid, he'd already be hoping for him to come back… Maybe he just enjoyed finally having someone to converse with again. Felt like restoring something that he thought he couldn't get back ever again after agreeing to sell the firm…

 

Stop living in the past, Murdock, he told himself… Managing to keep a soft smile as he led Peter out, Matt felt the expression hinder, the dark reality settling in once again. Once the kid was gone, Matt couldn't help but sigh… What was he doing? Trying to build a friendship with the boy just seemed pitiful. Still, it wasn't like he could shut him out so easily...Nor did he want to. Once Peter's presence was no longer in his range of sense, Matt slumped back onto the couch, the wave of discontent consuming him slowly…

 

Maybe the kid would understand…

  
  


...

  
  


As soon as Peter got out of the building, he hid into a dark alley, excited with adrenaline to finally do some field testing. Stripping down to his boxers, he traded his casual outfit for the suit as quickly as he could, slipping the mask and goggles over his face before taking off, slinging the backpack back over his shoulders.

 

Standing atop of the buildings in Hell's Kitchen, Peter felt himself running at full speed, jumping and swinging across buildings, doing what he could to help any nearby people. It felt exhilarating. The wind against his body, the blood pumping through his heart at max speed… He felt alive.

 

“Guess Spider-Man's finally out of development hell!” Peter shouted to himself as he swung his way back home...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, did not expect to get this chapter out so quickly... It was fun, trying to figure out how Peter and Matt would work off of one another, the tone being more serious when displayed from Matt's point of view, while Peter's is more eccentric. With introductions out of the way, it's now just figuring out how it goes from here. And since Daredevil Season 3 is coming out in a few days at the time of this post, I think this is gonna go along just fine.


	4. Raphael

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some minor spoilers on Agents of Shield S2 and Luke Cage S1. 
> 
> Wanted to get this chapter done before midnight, since Daredevil S3 is coming out in a few hours at the time of posting this. As a result, not going to be sure how long it's going to be until the next chapter comes out. Maybe in a day, maybe five. Hope you guys enjoy the new season and this chapter.

Sleep.

 

Something Franklin Nelson never expected to become his best friend and worse enemy once again after graduating college.

 

Hogarth may have been as charismatic as a woman could be, but worked herself and her employees to the bone...Or maybe that was his excuse for not wanting to get up so early in the morning to meet with a tough client. You'd think defending Frank Castle was tough enough that he was prepared for anything…

 

But the majority of clients he would meet with were so...bizarre. There was this one parent who claimed her daughter was a pure virgin and attempting to sue the doctor for claiming she had sex and was now pregnant...And that was after meeting with the monkey dealer.

 

Yeah, there were plenty of cullings done in the process. But bizarre weirdos weren't the reason he laid awake at night time, the clock ticking around 10:47 PM, sitting at home watching cable news…

 

There was also the problem with the kid.

 

He attempted to get in touch with Matt for a long time after sending the boy off. As expected, each call was sent off to voicemail. After a while of failed attempts, he eventually settled on leaving a message, but even that had trouble on it's own. Have you ever seen a blind man check his unchecked messages? That's why they had Karen handle most of the voicemails back then.

 

Then there was the boy to think about...That came out wrong. Foggy wasn't sure how, but it just did. Like he and Matt were a divorced couple and neither of them wanted the child custody. Wasn't that essentially their situation though?... Minus the marriage, that just felt weird to him.

 

Besides that, the fact that Foggy hasn't heard a word from neither Pete or Matt made him a bit anxious over what transpired. The last time he talked to him while in the same room was probably the closest he was to punching that man in his thoracic. Matt made it abundantly clear he wasn't going to change anytime soon.

 

The last time they talked, it was over the phone and he made it obvious that it was merely out of business. He made that clear with each vile word, the forceful tone in his voice… It just felt right. Too right. It honestly scared him how satisfying it felt to verbally abuse the man. As if it was feeding some extremely petty thrill.

 

The last time he saw Daredevil, was the moment where he felt terrified if something happened to Matt. Karen was safe, but he just...disappeared. No sightings of Daredevil were reported since. That might be only because this Cage guy was stealing the vigilante spotlight, but it just seemed like the Devil of Hell's Kitchen merely faded away...

 

When Peter arrived, it took him a lot of will to avoid bad mouthing Matt, further ruining his image as a lawyer. So to not hear from him was concerning. Very concerning. What if Matt told him to hit the road, the kid giving up completely on seeking out an internship? He had his name, so if he didn't call, maybe he could find his number… All teenagers had phones now, right?

 

Foggy broke out of his spaced out daze as he heard the unsettling vibrate against his wooden table, his phone receiving a new message. Maybe it was the kid. Though, he shouldn't be too hopeful. Checking the source number, his hopes grew a bit more as he did not recognize the caller ID…

 

**From: (Unknown)**

 

**Hey, Mr. Nelson. It's me. Peter Parker? The guy from earlier today?**

 

Yep. This was Peter. Opening up the conversation, he added Peter's number to his contacts and replied.

 

**From: Franklin Nelson**

 

**Hey. Didn't expect to hear from you so soon, kid.**

 

**From: Peter P.**

 

**Yeah, sorry about that. I just thought I should tell you about what happened with Mr.Murdock.**

 

**From: Franklin Nelson**

**Go right ahead. I got time.**

 

**From: Peter P.**

 

**He's really nice, actually. After I told him why I was at his house, he invited me in for a quick interview and some coffee.**

 

**From: Franklin Nelson**

 

**...You went to his place? You didn't call him first?**

 

**From: Peter**

 

**...Yeah, I know. Pretty dumb idea, looking back.**

 

**From: Franklin Nelson**

 

**I mean, take the opportunity by the horns. How was he, other than just “nice”?**

 

**From: Peter P.**

 

**Well… I don't know. Don't tell him I said this, but his place has seen better days.**

 

**From: Franklin Nelson**

 

**Did it reek?**

 

**From Peter P.**

 

**...Yes.**

 

**From Peter P.**

 

**But he agreed to the internship! So, I'd say it was worth toughing it out.**

 

Foggy was honestly a bit surprised. Of course he made it obvious that he was expecting Matt to cast him aside. Now it was merely just watching out for the boy and making sure Matt didn't try anything stupid and get him involved in any danger…

 

**From: Franklin Nelson**

 

**That's great to hear, Peter. Do me a favor and keep an eye on him? Matt's...well, Matt.**

 

**From: Peter P.**

 

**Mr.Nelson, I don't follow.**

 

**From: Franklin Nelson**

 

**Weird, kid. I'm implying he's weird.**

 

**From: Peter P.**

 

**Oh. Well, I wouldn't call him completely weird, just…**

 

**okay, fine, you might be onto something.**

 

**From: Franklin Nelson**

 

**Watch him like a hawk, Pete. Call me if anything happens, alright?**

 

**From: Peter P.**

 

**Absolutely! Thank you again for your help.**

 

**From: Franklin Nelson**

 

**Anytime.**

 

God, this kid was going to be the death of him. His naivety was something to be cherished. Still, felt relieving to have someone keep Matt in check, and Peter seemed to be the right man for the job. Hopefully Matt didn't do anything that would jeopardize the boy's safety… Karen was already in more danger as she was before when working for them. He didn't want to hear on the news that Daredevil had to go out and rescue some teenage boy from a kidnapping…

 

Man, was he tired. Looking back at the time, Foggy figured it was time to get to bed. He had to meet with someone at the ass crack of dawn, so seemed like a good time to clock out.

 

Plus, no consciousness meant no worrying about the boy and his new boss, so just an extra bonus.

  
  
  
  
  


Sleep.

 

Matt Murdock's recently acquired enemy.

 

Dreams were more or less a burden to handle. It was almost as if his subconscious was taunting him, reminding him of everything he could not have again. Sweet, blissful moments in a fictional life, created only to make a mockery of him.

 

The most recent was Stick at his graduation… It made him sick to his stomach merely thinking about it. He wasn't even sure what the hell it was supposed to mean. That he saw the bastard as a father figure? Absolutely not. He wanted nothing more than to erase his association with that man.

 

After what seemed like a eternity of lying awake at night, Matt gave up on sleep. Alcohol was out of the question, so there was that… His mind drifted to the locked chest for a moment. As soon as Matt realized what he was thinking, he quickly banished the thought from his mind.

 

He needed something to do. Something to put him at ease.

 

Push-ups.

 

The man spent a majority the night pushing his body to the extreme. From sit-ups to pull-ups, Matt worked himself to the brink of exhaustion, a sweaty mess by around 2:00 AM. Back then, he could go a whole lot further, but he just couldn't hit that goal now. Was he really this out of shape?

 

Throwing on a new clean shirt after wiping himself down, along with a fresh pair of boxer briefs, Matt felt his body almost completely quit on him as soon as his head made physical contact with his pillow. He didn't bother to throw on a blanket, his entire body feeling as hot as the sun. Within seconds, Matt quickly lost consciousness, fading away into blissful darkness.

 

Sleep deprivation.

 

Thy name is Murdock.

  
  
  
  
  


The man awoke with a slow rise, pushing himself off of the soaking wet pillow. His entire body was screaming out in pain. Yep, he was out of shape. His internal clock was also missing a few screws, not able to tell if it was morning or the afternoon. Reaching out to his alarm clock and pressing against the fourth button to the left, he shot out of bed with a jolt after hearing the device say 11:29 AM. Peter arrived at around 10 the day before. Focusing himself for a moment, he felt both relieved and shocked to realise the boy was close by. Shit, did he leave him waiting in the hallway again?!

 

Rushing to his feet, Matt hurried to the living room, only to trip over what felt like a person holding a staff. The two went stumbling to the floor, Matt feeling a large amount of dust billow up into the air by the impact.

 

“Ow…”

 

Matt pushed himself off of the floor, his muscles aching terribly as he heard the boy groan as well. In his earlier state of panic, he should've realized the exact distance of Peter's presence. That fault was on him.

 

“M-Mr.Murdock!”

 

Matt felt the boy quickly help him back to his feet, which felt like they were being prodded at by little tiny rocks on the floor… Was… Was he brooming? Come to think of it, his entire apartment smelled of heavy citrus soap and fresh wax. Drifting his attention back towards Peter, he seemed surprised at how easily Matt got up, as if nothing happened, the words caught in his mouth, unsure if he should ask the man if he was okay. Running his hand along his bed hair, Matt decided to speak up on the kid's behalf.

 

“Peter, did you clean my house?”

 

Peter stuttered once again in his speech, putting the broom aside as he tried to talk. “I mean, yeah. I figured I'd do some interning… right?” The boy gave a hesitant, clearly awkward chuckle at the end, worried if Matt seemed furious. The man felt just as awkward as he did. He was planning to clean before Peter arrived, but it looked like the kid beat him to it. The sink was completely empty, the garbage that plagued his home was no longer causing the room to stink… Even the dryer downstairs was in use, the boy going as far as to handle his laundry.

 

“...Thank you.” he said after some long silence.

 

“Um...You're welcome, sir.” Peter said with the same tone.

 

Matt then came up with a sudden realization that should have been his first question. “Wait, how did you get in?” he asked, concerned. Peter stopped in his tracks, face running white as he attempted to come up with an answer.

 

“Well, I...You left your door unlocked.”

 

Normal heartbeat… No clammy palms… Guess he was telling the truth. “...So it was,” he replied, still feeling a bit awkward. What a time to be caught with his pants down… Despite the lack of any actual pants, he just noticed. Not saying another word, the man just turned away, and returned to his bedroom as casually as ever, leaving the boy stunned in his tracks over what just happened. After trying to recall the previous few minutes and failing, Peter just went back to brooming, trying to pretend like nothing happened.

 

Normal interns had to see their boss wearing no pants sooner or later, right?

 

After what seemed like an eternity of waiting, Matt returned sporting white button-up dress shirt, dark grey slacks with leather brown loafers, all tied together with a maroon-colored tie and his trademark glasses. Going over to the kitchen to grab two clear glasses and filling them with water, Matt walked back over with Peter, who was still not saying anything, the tips of his ears seeming a bit warm.

 

Perhaps he did needed to be a bit more cautious around the kid. This wasn't Foggy, and so far, he managed to make the kid feel extremely uncomfortable. Gesturing towards his vision to get his attention, Matt held the water towards Peter, already drinking out of his own.

 

“Oh. Thanks,” he said, taking the glass from Matt and downing it in a instant. Setting the glass aside, Peter began to gather the dirt into a dustpan, bringing it over to the garbage. Matt took notice when he heard a small rumble within the boy's abdomen.

 

“Um...Sorry about what happened earlier,” he said, an attempt at starting a conversation. “Didn't think you'd already be inside.”

 

“No, it's okay. Just didn't want to wake you up, so I guess it's kinda my fault too,” he said, giving a bit of a forced smile at his boss, even though he couldn't exactly see it. Well, now that he had his attention, Matt decided to bring up the question he already knew the answer to.

 

“Peter, did you eat already?” he said, already knowing what he should expect from the boy. It wasn't the first time he knew people who would usually put their other well-being over their own, and Peter seemed to fit that criteria perfectly.

 

“Yeah, of course.” he said, only confirming Matt's assumption that he was going to lie. “Really. Mind telling me what you ate?” he said, continuing to press at it. Peter remained quiet for a moment, possibly in a attempt to come up with an answer on such short notice.

 

“Well, I grabbed something on the way over here. Nothing much,” Peter replied, attempting to continue the fake story. Seeing as he wasn't going to budge anytime soon, Matt gave a sigh and pulled out his cane. “Well, I'm feeling a bit peckish myself. Also have a few errands to run. Care to come with?” he said, figuring it was a simple excuse to go buy the boy a actual meal. He hasn't been grocery shopping in a while, so there wasn't anything in his apartment to work with. He also figured he should have a key made for the boy while he was at it, since he didn't want him waiting in the hallway or forgetting to lock his door to turn into a habit.

 

“But, your laundry's in the dryer downstairs,” he said, still unconvinced.

 

“And it'll be here once we get back,” Matt said. It was at times like this he was glad he was a lawyer, leaving Peter with no excuse not to go along without coming off as rude. It was like reeling in a fish with the right bait. A reluctant sigh coming from the boy, Peter reached to get his jacket and backpack from the coat rack as Matt did the same with his brown coat.

 

“So, is that a yes?” Matt said with a sly smirk, feeling Peter's arm brush against his. Peter replied with a quick “Alright, sure”, accepting his defeat and opening the door for the two of them.

 

This time, Matt checked twice to make sure it was locked.

  
  
  
  


Peter kept a close distance to Matt as they walked along the streets of Hell's Kitchen, yet not exactly close to where Matt had hoped, a few steps behind him as he followed in the manner of a lost puppy. He also seemed pretty quiet, another unexpected thing Matt noticed. Yesterday, the boy was rambling up a storm, but now he was quiet as a mouse. Perhaps dragging him on his daily commute out wasn't exactly what he was expected in an internship.

 

It's also been a while since Matt's been out of the house as well. Everything seemed more sensitive, taking a while for him to get used to the environment once again. Every so often, the man would slightly wince at the sound of something a bit loud, like a flock of pigeons flying away, or rather a police siren. Still, it was only a minor inconvenience.

 

What bugged him though was Peter's body language. The boy's heart seemed to be pacing a bit faster than a normal adolescent heart should, and he seemed to be tucking himself deeper into his jacket for some form of comfort, even though the wind was a light breeze. Seemed like he was having more trouble keeping his composure than Matt.

 

“Everything alright? You seem troubled,” Matt said, slowing his pace a bit to align himself with Peter. The boy looked up at Matt, caught off guard as he tried to scramble for a response.

 

“Yeah. Just think I'm coming down with something,” he said, his heart rate quickening for a moment. Another lie. Maybe he had social anxiety, Matt pondered to himself. He figured the kid would be too embarrassed to actually admit it though, especially to someone he only met recently.

 

Part of him was tempted to bring his hand up and ruffle the kid's hair a bit to calm him down, but it seemed too early to do such a thing. As much as he hated to admit it, it seemed like Peter still didn't exactly trust Matt completely. Guess he simply would have to earn it.

 

“So, Peter. Are you interested in law for a career?” Matt asked, hoping to get the kid to talk, even if it just ended up being one or two words. “Well, not really. I don't think I'm cut out for the courtroom, Mr. Murdock,” he answered. Matt gave a quick nod, going with his follow-up question. “Well, what career do you want to have, then?” he said, cane swaying side to side as they continued walking.

 

“I, um... haven't really gave it much thought. Sorry.” Peter answered. 

 

“Well, you're still a freshman, yes? You still have some time to decide what exactly interests you,” Matt continued. Peter kept quiet once again, the attempt in vain as they continued walking. As soon as he sniffed the wavering scent of fresh goods and warm drinks, Matt held his cane in front of Peter, signalling him to the stop. It somewhat worked, Peter halting immediately, though almost tripping over his own two feet before realizing where they were.

 

It was a small, hole-in-wall restaurant known for serving fresh and good food, especially in the winter. It was one of Matt's favorite spots to eat at while saving up in college, as it was a independent family business. Over the years, it only blossomed in popularity. Gesturing at the boy to follow, Matt walked inside, meeting with the cashier as he began to recite his order.

 

Peter seemed somewhat unfocused on Matt as he ordered, gazing around at the restaurant's interior. Very chique in its design. It also seemed pretty quiet at the moment, even though it was currently lunch hours. Matt felt himself grow relieved as Peter's heartbeat relaxed, the boy seeming to be more calm and collective than he was a few moments ago. Tapping at his shoulder, Matt called out to Peter, asking him what he would like.

 

“No, Mr. Murdock, it's fine, really. I'm not exactly-”

 

Almost with perfect comedic timing, Peter's stomach rumbled with a growl that Matt was positive echoed in the building. The man couldn't help but smirk once again, Peter's face heating up with blush.

 

“...Okay, maybe I am a bit hungry. At least let me pay, though,” he asked, not wanting to seem like a burden on Matt's wallet.

 

“Peter, you cleaned my house while I was in bed, for an unpaid internship, no less. It's my treat.”

 

“But that’s-”

 

“I also know for a fact that I do not own any orange-smelling soap,” he replied, feeling confident in catching the kid in his own web of modesty. Peter struggled to come up with an excuse for this, and he knew that Matt knew that he bought the supplies himself. He was already down to his last $5 bill. It was with a hesitant sigh, Peter accepted the 2-0 loss ratio, looking over the menu and giving his order to the cashier. After having Matt pay for their food, the two went to a booth in the far back, waiting patiently for their meals to arrive…

 

“...Sorry about that,” Peter said after they settled in. 

 

“About offering to pay? A bit of a odd thing to apologize for,” Matt joked, hoping to liven up the boy's spirits. As a result, the kid only looked down at the table, not exactly sure how to respond to that. A quick glance towards the television that was suspended from the ceiling, Peter's attention was caught. 

 

It was a news report, detailing a recent surge in enhanced individuals. Supposedly after the events of Sokovia, there have been multiple incidents in which has been identified as “terrigenesis”, resulting in the transformation of enhanced individuals, believed to have genetic code linked to the same aliens that attacked New York many years prior…

 

Many have been protesting against such events, claiming that there should be a nation-wide testing for these individuals, as well as registration to hold these people accountable for their actions. As for these people themselves, they have been dubbed “inhumans”.

 

As the news continued, many provided counter arguments against this, referencing the recent arrest of an enhanced individual who goes by the alias, “Luke Cage”, real name being Carl Lucas, an escaped convict from Seagate Penitentiary. The man was also responsible for single-handedly taking down another individual who was involved in designing weapons specifically to kill enhanced humans, alien or experimental.

 

“Politics have been rough, huh?” said Matt, catching Peter's attention away from the television.

 

“Totally. I understand why people are mad, but this seems out of control. Designing weapons just to kill inhumans… Just feels awful thinking about it. Everyone's making it sound like as soon as you gain powers, you become public enemy number one,” replied Peter, seeming genuinely concerned about the current political movements against supers… “What about you, Mr. Murdock? What's your take?”

 

“I stepped away from the hero discussion a long time ago, Peter. Though, I'd be lying if I said I feel sympathy for the people going through these transformations. From the looks of it, it's not something that can be controlled so easily…”

 

“Right… Must suck.”

 

…

 

“What about the Avengers?” Peter spoke, fiddling around with a coffee straw in his hands. “Hm?” mumbled Matt, surprised at Peter finally being the one to initiate a conversation. He just wished he was paying attention when he did.

 

“You know, Avengers, world's mightiest heroes?” continued the boy. “What's your opinion of them?”

 

Matt paused for a moment, pondering over the topic to find some answer. After recently creating a murderous robot that attempted to demolish the entire earth with an actual country, he guessed the nation was stuck as to whether they should be considered heroes or not. Matt didn't exactly consider them to be good samaritans, but they weren't enemies of the public either.

 

“I never gave it much thought. I suppose my stance is a bit mutual on them.” Matt answered. Peter returned with a soft nod, one ear listening to the news, the other to Matt.

 

“Are you a fan of them?”

 

“Hm? Oh, you're talking about...the avengers. Well, I wouldn't say I'm a fan… Sorta? I was a kid when they first came into the public, so I guess. I mean, they're sorta like celebrities now.”

 

“How so?” the man asked Peter. Never once had he heard people identify other heroes as celebrities. Speaking from personal experience, there were more people aiming pistols at him rather than smartphones.

 

“Well, I guess being friends with a man like Tony Stark makes you famous by association… That and, well, dropping massive things from the sky…” Peter finished with a sheepish tone, scratching at the rim of his ear...

 

“Tony Stark, huh?” said Matt. Usually people just said Iron Man and were done with it. Never once had he heard someone refer to him as Tony Stark when linking him to the Avengers. “I take it you're a fan of his work?”

 

Peter's cheek grew warm, the boy feeling a bit hesitant to answer. “Well...Kinda. It's nothing really. I found out about him when I was a kid, and he just… he has this eccentric, laid back attitude about him. It makes him look cool and charismatic, you know those kinds of people, right?”

 

Matt almost tripped over his words, feeling his mouth almost unintentionally mention Foggy. Usually the first man who came to mind when it came to handling people. “I.. Know a few. Though, Mr. Parker... am I not cool and charismatic?” replied Matt, a hint of sarcasm in his tone as he allowed himself to smile, attempting to hide his recent fib of words. 

 

Peter couldn't help but grin slightly, going silent for a moment. It wasn't until Matt raised an eyebrow that he caught up with the joke. “Wait, do I really have to answer that, Mr. Murdock?” as spoken as innocently as could be. Matt couldn't help but laugh slightly, the blow to his dignity not feeling as tough as it should. He wasn't the talker in these situations. The lord knew how badly he was when it came to convincing people.

 

Not the thoughts you want to hear from your lawyer.

 

Their food arrive soon after, Peter attempting (and failing) to talk and eat at the same time. It certainly took a while, but Peter seemed finally back to his original, talkative self from yesterday. Matt would take that as a personal victory, biting away at his sandwich. A man could only repeat the school question so many times without it getting old. Taking note of that, he would occasionally ask Peter about his experience in being sociable, claiming it to be a important part of the job. He was going to have to find clients soon, but as of right now… He had no real way of advertising. He had the legal documents, mind you. The problem was that he never bothered to come up with any marketing techniques or such… Nor did he know how to do it, the blind thing putting him at a major disadvantage.

 

“So, you just need someone to help you advertise?” Peter replied to his concerns while tossing a fry into his mouth. Matt was already on board with what the kid was implying, figuring it would be something for him to do while they didn't exactly have any clients to handle…

 

“Well, I did request a intern. Don't remember a butler being mentioned in the program,” Matt teased. Peter gave a sheepish smile, his fingers running through his hair, pushing follicles away from his ears. “I guess so. What if we make a twitter page for the business? I'll take care of it and everything with a separate email. I could also maybe print some fliers from the library and hang them around town in my free time,” he suggested, seeming excited just to get started.

 

“That would be great. We can get started with mapping out ideas next time you come over, alright?” Matt answered, earning the usual “Of course, sir” from Peter. After the two finished their meal,  ~~while Peter left a small tip, hoping Matt wouldn't notice,~~  there was just one last spot Matt wanted to look into before returning to his penthouse. Of course, Peter was fine with making as much stops as needed, claiming he didn't exactly have much plans for the afternoon, thus, no deadline.

 

What concerned him though was the slight rise in the boy's heartbeat… Usually meant a half truth, from what he experienced. It was rare to hear one of those as a lawyer, but he figured Peter was a new case. Still, they should probably get back without any unnecessary delay.

  
  
  
  
  


“This key right here?” Matt asked Peter, about to have the item made to replicate his house key. Feeling it around in his palm, the head of the key was in the shape of an oblong head, with a few indents to indicate a robotic shape with sharp edges making up the lower jaw. Peter gave a shrugged gesture and replied, “Yeah, this one works.”

 

_ Truthfully, Peter was relieved that Matt had no idea how Iron Man looked like or the key's design. _

 

Handing the item to the man behind the small machinery, the key was quickly sawed down until it matched Matt's own in a perfect replica. As the two walked out of the shop, Matt placed the key in Peter's hand, expecting him to hang onto it. It was his, after all.

 

Truthfully, this gave the man a bit of a odd feeling. He wasn't exactly sure why giving Peter a key to his house felt so off-putting. Maybe he was just overthinking it, he told himself as they continued to walk back to Matt's place, the building being just around the corner.

 

Upon entering the building, Peter nudged at Matt's shoulder quickly to get his attention before taking off. “You go on without me. Still need to get your clothes out of the machine.” he said with a quick smile. Before Matt could even reply, Peter quickly ran off, leaving the man to himself.

 

Heading into the lower levels of the building, Peter walked over to the many aisles of machines that were free of use to the attendants here, until finding the one containing Mr. Murdock's clothing… As he began folding clothes, he couldn't help but feel...prideful. 

 

There was a video of Spider-Man on the news. 

 

The boy had to force a bit of conversation so Matt wouldn't notice it, but even he still couldn't believe it himself. Even the words that people used to describe the enhanced individual, they spoke mainly in his defense, seeing as this person was seen going as far as stopping a speeding car from smashing into a bus filled with people. That one was  _ no _ easy task either, even with enhanced strength. 

 

Even so, Peter couldn't manage to wipe the grin off his face as he folded the man's shirts, placing them into the basket. In their own words, “these people are giving the avengers a run for their money,” is what really made his day. Totally worth leaving a tip.

 

After managing to stabilize his excitement down, Peter found himself carrying the basket up to Matt's apartment, greeting the man once again as he placed it down in his bedroom. After asking Mr. Murdock if he had anything left for him to do, he felt his excitement rise when he gave him the green light to head back home, nothing more to do for the day.

 

Bidding the man goodbye, Peter made a beeline for the same alley as the day before. After repeating the same process of changing his clothing in freezing weather, donning the warm hoodie and mask, the boy went to work. Still, he shouldn't let the idea of fame get to him. It was because of this that he wore the mask, so all that fame would go into Spider-Man and not Peter.

 

He was also pretty sure May wouldn't be too cool with her nephew having superhuman abilities, choosing not to tell her, and then proceed to fight street thugs when getting the chance. Matt...Maybe he could tell him? No, absolutely not, he told himself mentally. No identity reveal to anyone. Not May, not Matt, not even Ned or anyone else.

 

There was also the fact that Peter felt like a completely new person when in disguise. Instead of the shy, responsible teenager, he was now the quick-witted, wise-cracking hero who defended the innocent, helped the needy, and kicked bad guy ass! One thing was for sure though…

 

He didn't want to lose this feeling of freedom and responsibility any time soon.

  
  
  
  
  


Matt figured he should let the kid have his fun, whatever had his heart racing to get to. It wasn't like he needed to stay here any longer for the day. After they agreed to meet at the library to begin the advertising idea after the weekend was over, Matt found himself sitting at his couch once again, smartphone in hand as he fiddled with the shortcuts.

 

For a catholic man, he was extremely thankful for technology. After managing his way into his voicemail, his anxiety took a nosedive upwards once he heard the phone recite in its bored, robotic tone.

 

**“One: New Voice Message. From: Foggy** ”

 

He forgot he still had the man's contact saved in his phone… it wasn't like he was going to get rid of it anytime soon, nor did he want to. Holding the home button, Matt told the device to play the message, focusing his hearing only at the message and his old acquaintance's voice.

 

“Matt, look. Whatever the hell you're doing, it better be life or death. Otherwise, you should probably start answering your phone from now on. We got a problem.

 

The intern thing. There was this kid asking around for us. Name was Peter Parker. I...gave him your address and number. If he meets with you, please do me just this one favor and tell me. I know it's short notice, but my hands are tied here…

 

Sorry.”

 

**“Call End** ”

 

Matt could feel his words stinging like ice, feeling regret for not telling him ahead of time. Maybe it wasn't too late?

 

“Send message to Foggy,” Matt said to his phone. Hearing the small beep emit, Matt spoke…

 

“...Thanks. For, um... telling me about Peter… I'll keep an eye on him from here. You just… keep doing you.”

 

Matt felt himself stutter over his words. After pressing the home button once again, the voice message was already sent to Fo-...Franklin's phone. God… Even after they gave up on Nelson & Murdock, he was still always waiting up on him.

 

Tossing the smartphone aside, Matt attempted to banish the thoughts away from his mind, but to no avail. He had some clothes to put away, and now seemed like a good time to do it…

 

This was going to be a long weekend.


	5. Work in Progress

_ “Hello once again, people of New York. You should know the drill by now, my name is Patricia Walker, and this is Trish Talk. Picking up where we left off during our last session, we’re here to discuss the subject regarding the recent appearance of what appears to be a fourth or possibly, dare I say it, fifth vigilante within the big apple. Already, we have our first caller on line one, Erica, you’re on the air.” _

 

_ “Thanks for having me, Trish. Let me be the first to say it, we don’t need another man in a costume running around acting like a fool.” _

 

_ “A fool? What makes you say that?” _

 

_ “Trish, the world is having enough problems already with all these special people showing up. Adding more to the bunch isn't going to help anyone. Cage getting locked up is a blessing in disguise.” _

 

_ “Correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't Cage responsible for putting away a man impersonating him and framing him in murdering a officer in broad daylight?” _

 

_ “These supers attract nothing but trouble, Trish. That's all I'm saying.” _

 

_ “Well, thanks for your input. Line Two, Lorenzo, you're on the air.” _

 

_ “Good morning, Trish. In my opinion, it's great to have more good samaritans watching over us little people. Do the thing them fancy superheros won't.” _

 

_ “And that would be?” _

 

_ “Tell me, Trish. When was the last time you saw big man Stark going out of his way to stop some street thugs from robbing our restaurant? Because that's what this kid did. Left them stuck together with this weird web thing for the cops. A good man, lemme tell ya. And if he's out there watching this, let him know that Bigoi Venezia welcomes him back any time. Meal’s on the house.” _

 

_ “I'm sure he'll be happy to hear that. As always, thanks for your input. As the debate continues, the question still stands. Who is this new fresh blood on the streets of New York city, and how long will it take until he finally steps out into the spotlight and maybe even claim that free meal offer?” _

 

“Come on, Peaches. Your owner's down there waiting for you,” gently called out Peter, attempting to lure the cat towards his direction. True, he could have used his webs to easily trap the little bastard, but something about handing a web-covered cat back to a small seven-year old girl and her mother didn't sit well with him… So here he was, gesturing a slim jim towards the creature, slowly inching closer not to startle her…

 

He was saving this snack for later in the afternoon, but sacrifices had to be made for the greater good...or lesser of two evils. Which one applied better to this? It didn't matter either way, as the small feline began to inch close towards Peter with each passing second, until finally nibbling onto the tip of the meat…

 

That came out wrong. Peter wasn't sure how, but it just did.

 

Either way, the boy couldn't help but let out a thin gasp of joy as he finally had the cat in his range of capture. Gently, now, he told himself as he brought his free arm close to the cat, ready to scoop it up quickly… “Almost there,” he whispered…

 

He only managed to swipe at thin air, falling flat on his chest as the cat sank its fangs onto the meat stick, fleeing away with its newly earned snack.

 

“H-hey!” Peter shouted, quickly pulling his mask over his face once again. In a immediate haste, he got himself back to his feet and gave chase. “You're only supposed to get a little piece of that! You're gonna get sick if you eat the whole thing!”

 

The furry traitor ignored the boy's pleas, scaling across the sides of buildings with swift grace and ease. Peter, on the other hand, wasn't so graceful with his motion, jumping from building to building in a attempt to keep up with the furry, black pest without tripping over any weird rooftop stuff. He didn't want to be responsible for losing another shoe to a violent AC unit.

 

One thing was certain. He refused to go down to a ten-pound ball of meat and fluff. Yet, with each tackle and leap, the beast was one step ahead. You would have figured spider-senses would have been extremely useful in this literal game of cat and mouse, but Peter may as well have been a blind man flailing in water… No offense to Mr. Murdock, of course.

 

Finally cornering the rodent, Peter felt his hopes crush as the cat lounged itself at a window sill of a apartment building, housing a nest of small eggs. The animal looked bored of the slim jim…

 

“Ah, crap,” muttered the boy. Okay, he had to be quick with this… With a running start, the boy lept to the side of the building, sticking onto the wall with little resistance other than the painful impact. It was like slapping a brick...Which was exactly what he just did. He was sure they were going to bruise later on, but that wasn't the priority here.

 

What mattered was getting that cat down and saving those unhatched infant chicks...or birdies. What were pigeon babies called? Eyas? No, those were for falcons… Dammit, he was running out of time!

 

Carefully inching his body towards the window sill, Peter took his chance at capture. The boy was successful, grabbing at the cat with ease… in the first three seconds. What Peter didn't take into account that cats had claws. 

 

Painful claws.

 

Claws that they liked to scratch enemies with.

 

His senses warned him a little too late, as Peaches went straight for his masked face.

 

The boy yelped in pain as the cat clawed at his face and upper chest, nearly dropping the feline five stories up in the air. After managing to get the tiny beast restrained, he came to the horrific realization that his senses were still blaring at him, warning of incoming danger.

 

Looking to the window sill, the nest was on the brink of collapsing to the ground. Acting on complete instinct, Peter brought his foot upwards, nudging the nest carefully back into place. The boy released a sigh of relief, hanging by one arm to the wall while still keeping a cat on his hip, clawing at his lower torso… Which was really starting to hurt.

 

Carefully bringing the cat down to the ground after much gentle movement, Peter gave a run back to the original starting point, relieved to find the same little girl waiting alongside her mother. His heart couldn't help but warm once he heard her cry out the little monster's name. As expected, the cat lept out of Peter's hold, returning to its owner…

 

Before the woman could thank him, Peter escaped without leaving a trace behind. Returning to the rooftop once again, he still needed to find his backpack. He sorta abandoned it while hunting down that cat. Yes, perhaps he was unwise to bring it with him, but he had important stuff in there. Where else would he keep his snacks?... And of course his clothes, but snacks were a priority. Having an enhanced metabolism had many pros and cons. Cons, he often had to sneak into the kitchen for midnight snacks, only to be met with a May lecture about eating disorders… Pros, he now had abs. Returning to the very spot where he left it, the boy was struck with a massive wave of horrible smells... Horrible smells and feathers.

 

Pigeons.

 

There was a horde of pigeons crowding at his backpack.

 

“Hey! Scram!” he shouted, waving his arms at the feathered creatures, scaring them off into a quick flight. His heart sank upon the sight of the  _ gift _ they had left him, his backpack dirtied with many white and blackish droplets decorating it like snow… Disgusting, horrible smelling snow. Another con. Everything that had a scent was stronger to him. All good and bad smells.

 

“I saved your kids and this is the thanks I get!?” yelled out the boy to the fleeing demons. Face falling into one of disappointment and agony, Peter examined the bag, holding it up with a slight pinch with his thumb and index, a expression of disgust as a result. This was extremely gross. He couldn’t wear this! Not unless he wanted to have his sense of smell burned to the point of no return. He did have the mask, but the fabric was so thin, it really wasn’t much help at all. “This...this is why I’m not vegan,” he whispered out in a annoyed tone, not caring so much for any animals at the moment. Carefully unzipping the bag, he pulled out his street clothes as gingerly as possible, not wanting to accidentally graze it with the source of stink. He didn’t like using his abilities while in Pete-mode, but he had no choice here. He would just have to make it quick and make sure he wasn’t spotted.

 

Hiding behind the same AC unit he tripped over, Peter began to undress, the cold wind brushing against his skin and the fresh cuts on his face. At this point, he was starting to view his hypersensitivity as more of a curse than a blessing. Did spiders even have this kind of supersense? At least the cuts were starting to disappear now, a silver lining along the grey clouds. Not bothering to waste any time, the boy quickly threw on his average clothing, wanting to get out of the cold ASAP. Rolling up his uniform into a tight ball, he threw it into the bag, not caring if that got dirty. It was washable...Or at least he hoped it was. The spider drawn onto the chest was done with wash-resistant ink, so at least that was one form of assurance. Still, that wouldn’t matter in the long run if it shrank in the wash. There was also the glaring problem that he couldn’t exactly wash it in the laundry room back at his apartment complex, with May potentially being there.

 

After some much needed internal debate, he finally managed to come up with a solution. Removing his costume from the bag, he turned the clothing and backpack inside out, the source of the smell being forced to remain within the cage of fabric. It also hid the actual designs on them, and made it much easier to clean them in the future without any chance of being discovered. Problem solved. Now he just had to get down from the building...This was going to be tricky.

 

He didn’t want to use his wall climbing, not now at least. Not when he’s in a vulnerable state. He did have his web shooters tucked under the sleeves of his jacket, but that had the same problem as choice A. Walking along the edge of the roof for a while, the boy’s eyes lit up at the sight of a fire escape positioned right above a closed dumpster. Talk about hella convenient. Sure, he’d have to do a few falls, but it seemed human enough to pull off without any suspicion. Like jumping a fence.

 

Landing on the platform of the fire escape, Peter attempted to lower the ladder which connected it to a safe distance from the ground, to no avail. Figured, considering how out-of-date these places were. Maybe that whole campaign thing Mariah Dillard kept going on about wasn’t such a bad idea… Then again, she was part of a massive crime scandal so…

  
“Just get down, Peter,” he whispered, not wanting to daze off into his own mind once again, especially at such a dangerous time.

 

Since the ladder was unusable, Peter just had one choice. Dumping the backpack to the ground, he instinctively cracked his fingers in preparation. It also felt cool. Like being in a James Bond movie. Climbing over the railing of the platform, the kid dangled himself as close to the ground as he possibly could, feet aimed right at the lid of the dumpster. Hopefully he didn’t slip this time. He already had much needed acquaintance with the ground already. He didn’t want to turn that into a long term relationship.

 

After a few seconds of anticipation, he finally released his grip, landing onto the container with a loud resounding thud that made him wince in pain. Once again, hypersensitivity still sucked. Maybe investing in some earplugs could help. But then he wouldn’t be able to hear any criminal activity… Earbuds? Nah, same problem, just with catchy music… Maybe this was just the price he had to pay for cool superpowers. Like not being able to get angry whenever he wanted to, or not getting his vaccinations or donating blood because the needle isn’t strong enough to pierce his skin… Yeah, those kinds of prices.

 

Perhaps he should start preparing to go back home, the sun beginning to set beyond the horizon. Yeah, it seemed to be getting late. It was probably best to call it a day and clock out, exhaustion both mentally and physically began to overwhelm the boy. It was a long day… too long. Enduring the stench, Peter slung the bag over his shoulder, making a beeline straight for the subway, hoping he could catch the last train home before they closed for the night.

  
  
  
  
  


This weekend...was experimental, to say the least. Peter finally had all the necessary materials to do his role as a hero/vigilante, but just lacked the proper knowledge on what his body could actually do in terms of limitations. What he knew so far was his adhesive palms, able to stick onto any surface with ease, his enhanced, superhuman senses, and what he believed to be a awakened  _ sixth _ sense, superhuman metabolic system, AKA what he affectionately dubbed his healing factor, superhuman durability, and finally…

 

No, that seemed to be everything. Not much else he could name at the moment, the boy thought to himself as he laid silently in bed, fiddling with a pencil. Did professional dexterity count as a power? Sure looked like one, considering how quickly he tossed the pencil across each finger with ease...Maybe he could make a living from doing parlor tricks. Start a career as the next Criss Angel…

 

He really shouldn’t be up this late though, he told himself as he examined the clock. He just wished he noticed sooner if it wasn't for that stupid cat wasting his time. As embarrassed as he was to admit it, this whole Spider-Man gig was starting to cut deeply into his own personal life. He barely saw May at all this weekend, even though she had days off for both Saturday and Sunday. She seemed really disappointed when he had to make up a excuse why he had to leave, mostly lying about it being related to helping Mr. Murdock or hanging out with Ned… He knew he had to make it up to her somehow. But he couldn't let the people who were supporting him down either… Did all secret identity superheroes had this kind of trouble?

 

Already managing to stress himself out, Peter slammed the pillow to the side of his head, eyes directed right at the neon glow of his alarm clock against the darkness. It was already nearing midnight. He and Mr. Murdock already agreed to meet with one another at the library as soon as it opened at ten in the morning. It  _ was _ tomorrow, right…? It wouldn't hurt to call Mr. Murdock right now and check, right? Then again, it was almost midnight… He was probably asleep now… There was really nothing that could be done now, he figured. He'd just have to pray that it really was Monday and not some other day…

 

“Could blind people even tell when to sleep?” Peter muttered, slowly feeling the wave of exhaustion curl over his eyelids.

  
  
  
  
  


_ “Ladies and gentlemen, as you may have guessed, we have a great show for you tonight. Here by popular demand, it's the one! The only! Spider-Boy!” _

 

_ “Actually, Jimmy, It's Spider-Man, but I'll let it slide because you seem like a cool guy,” said Peter, donning a much more sophisticated suit. Who knew designer fabric felt so amazing as a mask.  _

 

_ “What a delight to have,” said the interviewer, TV smile as bright as can be. “So, it seems a lot of people are glad you can make it, with your busy schedule and all.” _

 

_ “Well, bad guys don't exactly have work hours. They really should though, maybe apply for worker's comp,” said the boy. As expected, the crowd erupted with laughter, his usual quips never failing to bring joy to the public. Even the interviewer couldn't help but chuckle. _

 

_ “You know, you should have really gone for comedian,” continued the man. “So, what do you have to say about being acknowledged as the next national hero ever since Captain America?” _

 

_ “Well, Jimmy, it wasn't like the title wasn’t going anywhere. Glad to know that the president seems to be a big fan of my work. You know, while I'm on the topic, this goes out to my many supporters out there!” shouted the boy, standing from his seat. “Everything I do, I do it for you guys! Lemme hear it!” _

 

_ Of course, the crowd went wild. _

 

_ “Spider-Man!” _

 

_ “Spider-Man!” _

 

_ “Spider-Man!” _

  
  
  
  
  


“...Spider-Man…spiderman...”

 

The boy mumbled in his sleep, completely lost to the beauty of REM. If only he knew he was a avid sleep talker, he would never rest again. He was lucky that he had his own bedroom.

 

“Oh...Of course, Liz...I would love to take you to dinn-AH!”

 

Peter couldn't exactly stop himself from falling off of his bed,  once again slamming face-first into the floor with a painful sounding crash, taking a good chunk of his bedsheets and alarm clock with him. His legs didn’t at all bend that way, forcing him awake with a massive jolt of slapstick pain. After many times he ended up falling onto the floor, you’d think maybe his dexterity isn’t actually so great as he initially made it out to be.

 

Stupid cat ruining his athletic winning streak…

 

Rubbing at the front of his leg, Peter gripped onto his bed frame, using it to pull himself off of the floor. Finally managing to get a glimpse of the outside, the boy was relieved to find the sky still at its early morning blue and not so immensely painful to look at. He also managed to beat his alarm clock by a few minutes, so just another win in his book. It was still early enough to at least make himself a quick snack before getting to the library on time. Finally feeling as if lady luck turned in his favor after so long, Peter managed to restore that old pep-in-his-step attitude, figuring he should hold onto this good sense of emotion while he still could. Have some fun before his infamous “Parker Luck” struck him like a umbrella in a thunderstorm. Always did, and always will. At this point, he simply resigned to taking whatever fate he had and went along with the flow. But right now, there was a empty bathroom, shower water, and a fresh change of clothes waiting to be taken advantage of.

 

Of course, as soon as he finished his morning routine, dressed in his casual clothing with his light green jacket, the last thing he expected to see so early in the morning was May, already up and cooking breakfast for the both of them…

 

She only cooked breakfast when the two of them had the day off…

 

Crap.

 

“Well, aren’t you...dressed,” muttered his aunt, her tone shifting from hopeful to a slightly disappointed one. “Right. You said you were meeting with your boss today?” The sound of it made the boy feel a lump of cold dark matter build up in his chest, a awkward smile painted on his face. He wasn’t expecting the luck thing to strike so immediately. For the past five days, he barely saw his aunt once she had a few days off lined up, and all he done so far was left her to herself while he was out doing spider things. Yeah, it was all in good intentions, but the excuses he used made it sound like he was actively trying to ignore her...Which was exactly what he was doing. All the more, it made him feel all the more worst, seeing her keep a calm, satisfied look just not to have him worry…

 

“So, aren’t you gonna stay for breakfast? Not every day when I decide to make pancakes with bacon,” said his aunt, sensing the uneasy tension from her boy. Peter quickly snapped out of his self-antagonizing thoughts, realizing he should at least eat breakfast with her for now. It wasn’t like Mr. Murdock would show up right as soon as the building open. He barely opened his own door. Pulling out a chair at the table, Peter grabbed what he assumed to be his plate and began to dig in.

 

“Um...Thanks. You really didn’t have to though. I’ve been learning how to cook for a while now,” he muttered after stuffing down a chunk of pancakes.

 

“Yeah. You still got a lot to learn. Though, is it such a crime for a woman to cook for her kid?” asked May, sounding a lot more playful with a smirk on her face, making the kid shrug in response, not able to come up with a solid answer for that. “I’m shocked. Usually people are grateful to have a meal cooked for them.”

 

“Thanks, though. It tastes great,” replied the boy, not wanting to sound unappreciative. At least the mood was getting a bit better. It seemed a bit stupid to be so worried in the first place over such a little inconvenience, now that he thought about it. He was just glad his aunt was understanding of his situation, not holding it against him.

 

After serving herself a plate, May joined her nephew at the table, looking a bit more dressed than she usually was for her usual morning outfit. Most of the time, it consisted of a mere fluffed robe and old clothing. Now, she had a more public-friendly look to here, even going as far as to put on her glasses. After a few moments of silence, Peter looked up as his aunt began to speak up.

 

“So, this Murdock guy. He’s been treating you okay?” she asked. Peter found himself a bit embarrassed at the phrasing, considering how it sounded like a stereotypical mom asking her kid if the babysitter was well-behaved. “Well, treating you like a boss should,” she added, sensing the hesitant look from the boy. “You’ve only met him less than a week ago, but you’ve been spending a lot of time at his office. Just wanna make sure nothing is going on over there that I should be worried about…”

 

“Well, yeah. Everything seems fine…” he said, muttering “...for the most part,” under his breath so she couldn’t hear. In the words of Mr. Nelson, Mr. Murdock was… a bit odd. Yeah, he was a good person, and if you met him in a professional setting, he gave off the impression your run-of-the-mill lawyer should. True, he did come in at bad times, but he had a respect for the man. “Mr. Murdock’s a good boss.”

 

“Peter, I want you to engrave this into your memory. There is no such thing as a easy job.” she replied, biting onto a piece of bacon. Peter nodded in agreement, figuring she was talking from experience. Shelter work did not sound easy at all, considering her work hours. “Make sure you squeeze every bit of experience you can from that man.”

 

“..Of course,” the boy answered, already finishing up his meal. Chugging down what was left of his drink, Peter gave a glance at the clock, figuring now seemed like a good time to head off. “Well, I shouldn’t keep Mr. Murdock waiting. Thanks again for the breakfast!” he said in a quick tone, reaching for his keys. “See you later tonight, love you!”

 

But, as soon as he went for the door, he heard his aunt call out to him, making him stop in his tracks. She gave the boy a slightly annoyed look before speaking up once again. “Don’t think for a second you’re getting away so easily,” she said. “The station’s packed in the morning. I’m driving you.”

 

Peter remained silent for a moment until finally gathering the composure to speak up again. “May, it’s fine, really. I don’t mind any crowded sp-”

 

“Pete, I’m driving. End of story.” Stern tone as ever, she gestured Peter to wait until she finished her meal. Without any resistance, the kid obeyed, sitting obediently on the couch like a domesticated dog waiting for its owner...Probably not the best analogy for this situation, but it sure felt that way to Peter. Even Mr. Murdock wasn’t this stubborn when it came to good intentions...

  
  
  
  
  


Matt’s weekend...Could’ve been worse. Boredom seemed to be his worst enemy now, with sleep being his newly acquainted rival. As a result, his muscles would ache terribly, the man spending a majority of the past few days testing his physical limits. He was lucky to have some suits that covered most of his body, but there was still hints of red near the brim of his neck. So, when the day came to finally attempt restoring his name to its previous hierarchy with the help of Peter, he couldn’t help but unintentionally wake at the crack of dawn. Not really having anything to do, he found himself getting dressed and taking off early to the NY public library to wait for the boy.

 

Perhaps a bit too early, considering it was still closed. The man sat at the steps to the entrance for who knows how long, only managing to keep himself entertained by people-watching...Or rather, people-sensing. The real kicker was when someone bothered to generously hand him a dollar, the man not being able to help the fact he found some sick humor in it. He didn’t look homeless… right?

 

Besides the freshly clean suit, he was a blind man, sitting alone at the steps of a public library since early morning.

 

Yeah, he was just now starting to see how this looked to strangers.

 

So, as soon as the building doors clicked open, Matt played the part of a blind man, waiting for elderly librarian to nudge at his shoulder, telling him that it was finally open. He did not waste any time getting inside, just wanting to finally being in range of air conditioning. It was a amazing sensation against his body, taking a moment to stop and simply lean against the wall, wanting to feel the cool breeze against his face. Though, it didn’t last long, once the librarian asked him to leave if he was simply going to loiter around and be a general nuisance as politely as she could manage. Taking the hint, he decided to make his way over to the computer labs, grabbing two chairs and setting them up at a unattended computer. Pulling a flash drive from his suit, he placed it on the table surface before finally taking a breather and patiently waiting for the boy to arrive.

 

To his surprise, he didn’t have to wait that long, Peter’s familiar sense coming into close range. Still, he couldn’t help but feel slightly nervous once he came to the realization that someone was dropping him off. It was a woman’s heartbeat, possibly around early 50s. Probably his aunt. Even though he usually had no problem meeting with people, Matt wanted nothing more than for her to drop the kid off and drive away… If the past several weeks had taught him anything, first impressions were not at all his strength. Being mistaken for a loitering homeless man should be enough evidence to prove his point.

 

As luck would have it, Matt felt himself relax once he heard the car drive away after some time. As much as he would like to meet the young man's guardian, he also...didn't...want to meet the young man's guardian. That didn't make much sense at all, did it? Pushing his thoughts aside, Matt kept his focus entirely on Peter's presence, waiting patiently at the desktop until the boy would eventually took notice.

 

As expected, Peter quickly managed to catch Matt in his sight, quickly making his way over to the man with no haste. “Um...Hey, again, Mr. Murdock,” he greeted in his usual respectful tone. “I didn't keep you waiting, did I?”

 

“Not at all,” bluffed Matt, gesturing at the boy to sit down. Peter did as such, taking the unspoken invitation to bring the keyboard over to his side, typing in his information. Yes, the desktop was visually impaired-friendly, and Matt did know how to use a laptop, making use of only a braille keyboard. The man did graduate from a university school and managed to hold down a office during his time at Landman and Zack. But, he figured it would be more efficient to let Peter do most of the typing, since Matt usually typed at a snail's pace, occasionally giving his input as to what he needed him to do. The purpose of interns are to help their employers, of course.

 

“So, where exactly should we start?” asked the boy, already opening up the browser. Matt figured the best course of action would be to create a website. He would also need to have some new cards ordered in. Hopefully Hogarth wasn't the type to sue if he re-used the original template from Nelson and Murdock. Peter also mentioned the possibility of social media while they discussed the topic during their last interaction. Maybe he could give it a try? He just hoped the boy was as tech-savvy as he appeared to be.

 

“Here,” answered Matt, the flash drive in his hand. “This has the old design for the business cards, photos, the url for my email, and anything else you need that should be stored on it.” Handing it off to Peter, the boy wasted no time in getting started, plugging it into the computer and opening a separate folder for it.

 

“So, website-wise, should we just go with weebly or something?” the boy asked…

 

“...Weebly?” Matt replied, not knowing what exactly Peter was talking about.

 

“Mr. Murdock, you never heard of Weebly?”

 

“Peter, I have not touched a computer in the last ten years. It's a miracle that I've heard of Youtube,” the man jested. Yeah, he might have exaggerated a bit, but when it came to technology, Matt was far out of the loop, especially for someone his age.

 

“Right. Sorry,” Peter replied, sounding a bit awkward for asking such a question, when the reason should have been obvious. Managing to recover, he then gave Matt the run-down of what website development software he was required to learn in junior high, with how efficient they were in use, how web domains could be bought, and much more that Matt somewhat forgot in the process, his head spinning a bit afterwards…

 

“...So here, it lets you insert slide presentations and images, and after selecting the divider tool right here, you can add some text elaborating what it's exactly about. I was thinking we could put some reviews from your old firm, see if we could use what resources we already have available. We can also have some URLs posted up that link clients automatically to your email, but I can make you one exclusively for business that I'll manage. Sorta like a intern/secretary thing… That sound okay with you, sir?”

 

“...”

 

“Mr. Murdock? Are you doing okay?”

 

“Um...What was that first website option again?”

 

“Weebly?”

 

“Yeah, just go with that.”

 

To his surprise, Peter managed to get ahead with the bare essentials, making use of what he had without any large-scale technology that Matt assumed was needed for this kind of coding… Either Peter was a skilled technical prodigy… Or maybe he really was out of it and all teenagers knew how to do this.

 

It was probably both, the more he thought about it.

 

“Peter, where exactly did you learn how to do all this?” he asked. He couldn't recall either him or Foggy having to do such coding back at Columbia. It honestly all seemed brand new to him.

 

“Oh, they teach you this kinda stuff in junior year, but I...sorta taught myself. No big deal, really,” Pete answered, hands speeding fast across each key, once in a while his dominant hand grazing at the mouse. “Believe me when there are kids younger than me who are better than this stuff than I am,” he exaggerated in a humble tone.

 

And yet, the boy lobbed another unintentional blow to the man's lack of technological knowledge and sense of pride...

 

God, he felt old.

  
  
  
  
  


After what felt like a eternity of patience, Peter finally relaxed his hands, bringing his dominant over the mouse as he gave the website one last quick inspection…

 

“So, Mr. Murdock...Even though you can't exactly see this, I guess you should know that I took reference from other professional business sites, as well as the one belonging to your old firm. I also included a section with your picture and a quick description of your history with clients…Though, I guess I should ask you something,” he asked, catching Matt's full attention. He seemed hesitant in his words, almost as if he didn't want to bring it up. After a few moments of silence, he finally spoke up.

 

“Is it alright if I reference Frank Castle?”

 

Matt felt himself internally wince at the man's name. The whole court case that cost him almost everything…

 

“Is it necessary?”

 

“Well, no, but-”

 

“Then no,” finished Matt, stern and as intimidating as ever. He wanted nothing more than to put that case behind him. He didn't want his clients to simply be coming forward just to ask questions about Castle either. He already placed his fair share of testimony in the press, there was nothing else he could say about it… Nor did he want to.

 

The very thought of that man brought a painful throb to his skull...

 

“O-okay then,” said the boy, quickly sensing the uncomfortable tension from Matt. The man felt himself rest at ease once it became obvious that the boy didn't want to open up any old wounds. He was just glad he didn't press him for any details about the case. Every single bit of Castle's history was known to the media, so whatever was left to ask was for the people who defended and prosecuted him in trial to answer. It was good to know Peter wasn't one of those people...

  
  
  
  
  


After what felt like another hour or two, completing and publishing the finished website was no problem with the kid's help. Of course, they did have to request some more time, the original limit being an hour's worth. They were lucky that the staff agreed to give them as much time as needed, considering how lowly packed the place was at the time. At his advice, Matt chose to even go as far as to buy the domain name for the site, since clients would probably feel more inclined to check with a lawyer who didn't have “.weebly.com” in their URL.

 

After Peter managed to give him the complete tour of the site, he seemed happy with the final product. Everything seemed to be in check. He just wished he could see it for himself, but he was confident he could trust the young man's eye for graphical design and appearance. Any thoughts of ever underestimating this boy's talents was already banished far from Matthew's mind. It was sorta like having a little mini Kar-...

 

He was just glad to have Peter working with him now. It definitely made things much easier…

 

Perhaps too easy… Come to think of it, when was the last time Matt did any solid contribution other than resources? He really needed to start pulling his own weight, not wanting to take advantage of the kid's generosity.

 

But to do that, he would have to have some clients first.

 

“So, should we get started with making the cards then?” Peter asked, snapping Matt out of his unintentional space-out.

 

“Yes, of course,” answered Matt, fiddling with the pockets in his suit. Pulling out the original business card for N&M, he handed it to Peter, figuring he should know what to do by now. “Think you can replicate the design?” he asked…

 

“Um, yeah. I can do that. What's the name of the website you ordered them from?”

  
  
  
  
  


“I...never knew you could make these cards with braille on them.” the boy said as he examined the options for what should be included on the card's design. “Engraving?...Metallic surface?!”

 

Matt simply gave a shrug to the other options, just as lost as the boy. He was sure some big companies could afford such a luxury...But he was not a big company. “...Just try to replicate the original design. No unnecessary showboating”.

 

“Noted,” the boy replied. “I also added the website on the back of the card with the number you told me to put. That alright?”

 

“Of course. Just make sure to leave enough space for the braille to be easy to be felt.”

 

“3.5 × 2, right?”

 

“Absolutely.”

 

Compared to the website creation, the ordering of the business cards were relatively easy. After having Matt enter in his credit card information to finalize the purchase, Peter read aloud to the man the order date, taking a mental note of when they should arrive at his home… From the looks of it, everything seemed to be running as smoothly as possible. It was just a matter of time before Matt could finally get some work…

 

Once he had the assurance from Matt, Peter quickly logged out of the desktop, standing upright as he stretched his arms. Finally, after what seemed like...three hours… Three hours?! Matt was surprised at how much time actually passed, when the whole sense of time became non-existent to him, communicating with Peter in the process of creating a new email, website, and the design of business cards.

 

“Time...really flew by, huh?”

 

“Hm?” Peter muttered, looking up at Matt with naive eyes. Once he finally spotted the clock, the boy ran his fingers across his hair, finally realizing the extent of their work… “Oh. I guess it did…”

 

Matt didn't actually mind in the end. It was much better than working himself to the bone in his apartment. What concerned him was Peter's reaction to the time spent…

 

“I take it you had other things scheduled today?” asked Matt, hoping to get some elaboration from the boy…

 

“Well...Not really? I can take care of it tomorrow.” he replied, sounding a bit disappointed. “So...should we get going?”

 

“...Why the rush?” Matt answered in a bit more enthusiastic, yet quiet tone, resting his hand on the boy's shoulder. “I could use some decent novels to read. Kill free time.”

 

“Huh...I didn't take you as a literature nut, Mr. Murdock.” said Peter, not minding the display of the man's hand on his shoulder. 

 

“Well, television is somewhat out of the question.” Matt answered, opening his cane as he began walking. “A man has to keep himself entertained somehow.”

 

“I guess that's true.”

 

It really wasn't, though. Finding books in braille seemed like more trouble than it was worth to Matt, so he eventually gave up on doing such… It bugged him on how much time he spent doing work. Now that he finally had time to himself, it felt… terrible. Being trapped with his own self thoughts and existential dread… It was something he desperately wanted to avoid. Perhaps it seemed selfish to have the boy stay longer than he should, but the other option just felt so undesirable. He would happily take a week that is scheduled to the brim with work rather than a single day's vacation by himself... 

 

It also prevented him from thinking about the suit…

 

As soon as that thought entered his train of thinking, Matt felt his skull ache with a painful throb… The man thought he was going to be sick for a moment… The very thought of him donning the suit once again brought… He wasn't even sure now… It was too much to comprehend… The very idea of it made him feel ready to lie down...

 

“Mr. Murdock? Are you feeling alright?”

 

“Huh?” muttered the man, snapping out of his daze once again. Releasing his slight firm hold on the boy's shoulder, he gave a deep breath to himself, trying to regain his composure… He really needed a drink…

 

“Um...What was it, you were saying?” he asked, trying to remedy the abnormalities in the air between them. He needed to do something about these episodes soon. For once, he finally seemed concerned about his own well-being… Well, that, and not wanting to scare off the boy.

 

“Er…Books?” the boy replied with a awkward, hesitant tone.

 

“Right…”

 

_ Everything felt… His arms were growing numb, the tips of his fingers registering nothing but static… Steady breathing, Murdock… _

 

“Um...Peter… Think you can… handle yourself For while I look around?” Matt asked, attempting to keep his composure for a little bit longer. He already had a good feeling what was going to transpire… He just didn't want the boy or anyone else to witness it.

 

“Um, yeah, sure.” Naive as ever, Peter obliged by the man's request, leaving him be for the moment as he walked off to another section of the library…

 

As soon as he had a opportunity, the man quickened his pace. His leather shoes sped walked at a rhythmic tempo, not caring much for his cane…

 

_ Bathroom. He needed a bathroom. Now. _

 

Everything felt like a blur… Fragments of images making up his mind… All he was able to interpret was a solidified path leading to a pristine room packed with smells of bodily fluids and chemicals…

 

Quickly opening the door, Matt hurried himself into a empty stall, feeling a large lump building within his esophagus.

 

The next thing he knew, the man was leaning over a toilet bowl, feeling himself hurl whatever was left in his stomach… which wasn't much. He felt sick… really sick… Perhaps it wasn't such a bright idea to get here on a empty stomach.

 

Coughing up what appeared to be residue of saliva, Matt practically has to pull himself back up, grabbing onto the frame of the toilet, not caring much about sanitation at the moment… Lowering the top of the seat, the man had to force himself to sit down...for at least a few minutes.

 

He didn't expect it to get this bad so quickly. He only felt the ache just recently, how did it get this badly in less than a couple hours?... One thing was certain. Resting on a public bathroom toilet was not going to help him. Not at all.

 

_ “Get a hold of yourself, Murdock…” _

 

Finding a new burst of motivation, Matt brought himself back onto his feet, hesitating for a moment until he was finally able to stabilize himself again. Leaving the stall, the first thing he went towards was the row of sinks, rinsing his hands in piercing cold water to splash over his face. He was fine...He was fine now. All he had to do was tough it out for a few more hours. He’s been through worse. A minor head cold should not be enough to take down Matt Murdock, and he was not going to let himself be proven wrong. Feeling a new sense of confidence surge through his core, Matt wiped down his face with a few paper towers, slowly restoring his composure as he left the bathroom…

 

Now he just had to find the boy...and some random book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't be a internship without literal work. Yeah, sorry if this chapter felt a bit uneventful, but believe me, I am trying my hardest not to rush anything for the sake of getting to the point. As of right now in the plot, Matt and Pete are still in the testing phase of their relationship, so hope you understand.
> 
> There's also the fact that I have several college applications that need attention, so gonna have to work on those for a while. Hopefully it won't be too long of a wait before I can update this again.


	6. Warning Shot

Something felt… Off.

 

Peter took it a bit odd when Mr. Murdock requested to go alone in search of a novel, for many reasons. Just when he thought he figured the man out, he managed to pull a 180°… Then again, it's only been...three meetings, he believed he met with the man. Perhaps it was still a bit too early to assume things. Then again, you shouldn't judge a book by its cover…

 

That kid waited so long just to make that scenario-fitting phrase…

 

Either way, when the man requested that Peter should leave him be for now, he didn't mind. He was sure the man had some interests he felt wouldn't be appropriate for the boy to witness… Okay, that just made it sound like Mr. Murdock was a fan of adult novels… Was he?

 

God, that was not something he wanted to think about right now. The very last thing he wanted to imagine was  _ that _ . Perhaps he should look around, see what he could find for himself.

 

After what seemed like an eternity of examining shelf after shelf, Peter just couldn't find anything that piqued his interests… “Ender's game” sounded tempting… Maybe “Of Mice and Men”?...He already read “Fahrenheit 451”… “Hunger Games”, despite being a good read, was already milked dry by the media.

 

“Nothing,” the boy muttered to himself, Peter eventually settling down at the study hall… It surprised him how quiet it was, even for a library. Not that he was complaining, of course. It felt nice to give his ears a break. The dusty smell was unavoidable though.

 

Maybe he should just come to this library instead of the one at school. Unlike there, people actually kept things quiet. Still, with the schedule he was already running, it didn't seem like such a possibility. Giving a disappointed sigh after realizing how much it conflicted with his already hectic life, the boy slumped over the table, resting his head for a moment, just to give himself some relaxation time…

 

It didn't take long for the boy to unintentionally begin tapping his finger to a specific tune he couldn't rid himself of. After a few moments of silence, Peter couldn't help but bring himself upright once again, stretching his arms as his eyes darted around the hall. Finally, something that piqued his interests. The newspaper display… The last thing you'd expect a young teenager to have a interest in.

 

Still, it wouldn't hurt to look and check what was in the news at the moment. With the whole hero craze taking up the digital media, you'd mostly have to rely on traditional news articles to get a solid story… Except the Daily Bugle, from what he can tell. Surprisingly, he was on the front page.

 

**“New Hero or Public Menace? The 2nd Daredevil”**

 

“2nd Daredevil?” Peter whispered, not wanting to garner any attention… Plucking the paper out of the display, Peter returned to the table he was sitting at, eyes focused intently on the front page. It was a photograph of him in the costume, displayed next to a picture of the famed vigilante of Hell's Kitchen, Daredevil…

 

Of course, Peter already had a solid idea of who Daredevil was. Everyone and their mother knew who Daredevil was. He was the man responsible for originally taking down corrupt politician Wilson Fisk, the man responsible for the many bombings across New York in a attempt to build the city from the ashes. Unlike vigilante figures such as Frank Castle or Jessica Jones, Daredevil never revealed himself to the public, always working within the darkness of night, taking out dangerous criminals…

 

He was starting to see the slight comparison, but it was only still a few things he and the vigilante shared in common. Yes, the costumes could be similar, with the red color scheme and all that, they both operated exclusively in New York, and only targeted criminals… with the exception of people needed a helping hand, which was Peter's job. He never saw Daredevil chasing down cats.

 

Beyond that, the similarities ended. Daredevil had this image of a dark, brooding vigilante. Sorta like a real life Batman, technically. Just replace Hell's Kitchen with Gotham, and bam. That just wasn't Peter though. As embarrassed as he was to admit it, he wasn't sure he could pull off the whole “enemy in the shadows” persona. Spider-Man was supposed to be more family-friendly.

 

Still, the Daily Bugle had no problem lumping the two personas together, claiming that this new unnamed vigilante could very well be someone which was attempting to steal the spotlight from a absent DD, which was not at all Peter's intention. The very last thing he wanted to be was a copycat of another hero. He worked so hard on the Spider-Man design too just to make it unique!

 

Then again, the public still wasn't aware that Spider-Man was his name, so from what it seemed, he's been dubbed as the “2nd Daredevil”... Maybe he should try and hand out business cards too?...Nah, that would ruin the whole point of the secret identity. He'd just have to suck it up and take whatever publicity he could for now.

 

Back to the article itself, they were not at all generous with how they described Spider-Man. In fact, they were just malicious in ruining his public image. This was obviously concerning, considering Peter wanted to uphold the image of a good samaritan-kind of vigilante. Otherwise he would have eaten chicken for dinner just to spite those birds from yesterday.

 

From the looks of it, he'd just have to prove the Bugle wrong. There was no way in hell he was just going to be the “2nd Daredevil”. He was Spider-Man, dammit! And he was going to do whatever he could to be the best damn hero he could be!...

 

But right now, he should just behave and wait for Mr. Murdock…

 

Figuring he should move past the article that was bad-mouthing him, Peter turned the pages to the less-Spidery stories that the Bugle had. Just like him, there were also stories bad mouthing others who have been acknowledged as superheroes as the public. From Luke Cage, Jessica Jones… Inhuman trafficking?

 

Catching his interest, Peter turned to the story, figuring he should at least skim through it. As it seemed, ever since the Terrigenesis outbreak, there has been government action in detaining enhanced individuals responsible for mass destruction. The only thing standing in the way of the government was a group known as the “Secret Warriors”. A group of inhuman agents responsible for safely apprehending inhumans before they can be detained by the government… This was...certainly news to Peter.

 

Then again, “Secret Warriors” sounded secret for a obvious reason. There was even a image of one of the members, a ex-civilian known as Mary Sue “Skye” Poots… Quite the name. Going down the list, it had more information that was theorized about the other members known by the public. Joey Gutierrez… Elena Rodriguez… these all used to be normal civilians… Just like Peter.

 

Engraving the name into his memory, Peter figured he should look more into it later once he had the chance. It sounded interesting. A group of heroes fighting for the protection of inhumans? How badass was that?...

 

But if the government was hunting down inhumans… Could he be on a watchlist right now?

 

No, of course not. From what it looked like, the government was only targeting enhanced individuals of large-scale destruction. If that wasn't the case, there would've been a call for every enhanced individual out there to be apprehended. Which wasn't that much different from what was occuring right now… Daredevil is missing, Luke Cage has been arrested...Even a few years prior, the U.S. superiors have been threatening Tony Stark to turn over the Iron Man suit… Maybe he wasn't in the clear just yet…

 

All the more reason to remain independent as Spider-Man, the boy figured. The less police involvement, the better.

 

Man… Maybe he really was just another vigilante to the public eye…

 

Should that really matter though? Being a hero wasn't about the fame in the end. It was about being a responsible enhanced individual, wanting to do the right thing for the right purpose. Even if Spider-Man would never reach Avenger or Secret Warrior status, he should still do whatever he could to defend and aid the innocent. That's what being a hero should mean to him! Not the fancy recognition or free meals at italian restaurants… He was, is, and always will do whatever he can to be the best hero in the way that mattered! He was Spider-Ma-

 

“Peter?”

 

“!!”

 

Startled as ever, Peter almost fell back in his seat, quickly gripping onto the table before he could fall on his ass for what seemed like the fifth or sixth time this week. Glancing away from his near death experience, he looked up to see Mr. Murdock in the flesh, looking directly...well, not “directly” directly...more like… “five inches to the left” directly at him.

 

“Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you,” said Mr. Murdock in a apologetic tone. Using his free hand, he held it out to Peter to help the boy back up. Accepting the gesture, Peter felt the man help him up again. For someone blind… He was actually pretty strong. Made him wonder what Mr. Murdock did in his free time to be so jacked.

 

“Thanks, sir,” Peter replied, grasping at the paper to place it back at the stand. Getting a good look at the man, Peter felt himself grow a bit surprised at how he looked… Not that he had a massive scar on his face or anything. He just looked really pale…

 

“So, um...Did you find any good books?” the boy asked, not wanting to ask anything relating to his unhealthy discoloration… Maybe he was just tired.

 

“I believe so,” replied the man, sounding as healthy as ever, despite his appearance. “Won't know until I begin to actually read it,” Mr. Murdock said, clutching the novel to his side, the title obscured by his suit.

 

Peter simply scratched the back of his ear, trying to feign a false appearance of composure, despite his recent clumsy behavior. “So… Should we get going?” he asked in a more adult tone. Seeing Mr. Murdock smile at him made it obvious that he caught onto his ruse, only making him feel more like a child who probably wasn't capable of tying his own shoes. Thankfully, he didn't bother to acknowledge it, simply giving a quick nod to answer the boy's question.

 

“I'll catch up with you in a moment,” Mr. Murdock said, not brushing so much as a falter in attitude. Guess being a lawyer took a lot of patience and stability, from what it looked like. “Just give me a moment to take care of this…” he said, gesturing to the book.

 

Obeying the man's request, Peter gave a sharp nod...despite the fact the man couldn't see it, with a affirmative “mhm” before making his way to the entrance of the building. Maybe May was right about squeezing all he could out of the man. Even if he wasn't looking for a career in law, he sure could use help with presenting himself. In many ways, he still felt like a little kid here, while Matt just radiated with maturity and stability...

 

He still had a lot to learn as Peter Parker.

  
  
  
  
  


Later that day, there was nothing stopping the boy from donning the suit once more...Except from the fact he still had to wash the costume sooner or later. Completely slipped his mind as he felt himself returning to the usual dark alley, realizing he had nothing to change into. That should be a learning experience in itself to never put things off, considering how quick they can come back to haunt you. Realizing he still had a little more than a hour before his agreed curfew with May later that afternoon, he decided he may as well stop by a small burger joint and grab something to eat. It was already around lunch hours too, so cut him some slack if he was starting to get hungry. Sitting at some random booth within the building, the boy pondered on how he should go about patrolling from now on...

 

As much as it pained him to say it, his priority was searching for big fish to fry. No more getting cats out of trees or going around giving directions. He was just glad that Mr. Murdock understood when he requested to leave early, having finished their work for the day. There didn’t seem to be much of a reason to stay much longer, considering the lack of anything else to do… There was also Mr. Murdock’s health that concerned him greatly… Seeing that man so pale-looking in the library, face devoid of color… It actually scared him. It felt pointless to burden the man any longer than he should.

 

Don’t misinterpret him when he said he was grateful for the opportunity to intern for the man, gladly agreeing to take him under his wing… It just felt like it should remain strictly to business. Help Mr. Murdock with whatever trouble he had for the day or whatever tasks that had to be completed, and leave it at that. No special outings or hanging out, just doing what had to be done and leaving his boss to his own interests. The way Mr. Murdock had to force himself just to stay awake made it clear the boy was overstaying his welcome. Him getting sick was not something Peter wanted to be responsible for… Mr. Murdock was a kind man. He shouldn’t attempt to take advantage of that... Banishing any further thoughts about his internship from his mind, Peter continued eating, thinking back to what he could recall back at the library, other than Mr. Murdock.

 

_ 2nd Daredevil... _

 

Pete pondered over the name for quite some time, not sure what to make of it, considering it could either mean good or bad news. There were so many things that he should be concerned about with his new title. Too many to name. The OG Daredevil could hunt him down, or even some old enemy criminals wanting him dead, the police potentially putting him on a watchlist… His head spun merely thinking about it… 

 

Then perhaps he should stop thinking about it, the boy figured. He was still Spider-Man, and he had a job to do. Simply thinking about the potential dangers that were beyond his control wasn’t going to do him any good. If it was going to come to that, he’d have to face it. Nothing more… Spider-Man had business to take care of... Though, he wasn’t exactly sure what that business was. All he knew that it had to be something big. Something responsible for putting a lot of bad dudes away. But then again, how was he supposed to find it? It wasn’t like it was going to come up like a blip on a mini-map. He had to do some investigating, and walking aimlessly around the city wasn’t the most efficient way to do as such… Perhaps he should let the danger find him. But how? He couldn’t reveal his identity and make some quick threat to any criminals to come and get him. The last time someone did that, their private home got demolished by terrorists. He wasn’t sure the landlord would be so forgiving of that.

 

There was also the issue of no one wanting to take him down...Or, wanting to take Spider-Man down. “2nd Daredevil” seemed like someone they wanted to kill or put behind bars desperately. Maybe he should use that to his advantage and play along? No, that would ruin his unique identity that he was trying to create for himself…

 

What was he supposed to do? School was getting closer and closer, and here he was, wasting precious daylight… 

Daylight… 

 

“Daylight!” the young man unintentionally called out to himself, catching the attention of some other patrons. Flustered, Peter silently shrank back into his seat, attempting his best to act like he did not just accidentally make a fool of himself...

 

The idea hit the boy like a massive truck to the face, grateful for the sudden realization he was lacking. Of course. No seriously dangerous criminals were going to strike in broad daylight. It was stupid to think of such awful planning. If he wanted to find something really worth guarding, he’d have to look during the dead of night... Maybe Daredevil was onto something, hiding within the shadows of the darkness. He’d play the part of Spider-Man during the day…

 

And the 2nd Daredevil by night… It brought chills to the boy for merely just thinking of it. Was he really prepared to handle such a task? He may have been young, but he knew greatly of the dangerous activity that usually plagued the big apple… Who else was to do it though? The Avengers handled nationwide threats that could endanger hundreds of civilians, the Secret Warriors handled the inhuman business, Luke Cage was in prison, and Daredevil had disappeared off the map. That just left him…

 

Finishing up his meal, Peter quickly left the building, making haste to return home. He had to get his things ready, and he still had some time left, a idea brewing in his head on how he was going to get his suit clean. He couldn’t just have May walk in on him while he was washing the suit… Maybe he could sneak into the laundry room?... The other option was waiting it out until the middle of the night, but that had its own set of problems, considering the room was only open  from six in the morning to eleven at night. Less than half a hour was not enough time to wash his clothes and sneak back inside either…

 

“Okay, winging it then,” he muttered to himself, entering the underground station. He just had to plan things out as he went. There wasn’t else he could do to make it any better. He’d just have to make good use of the cards he was dealt with. Only made things worse considering he didn’t even know how to play poker to begin with.

  
  
  
  
  


When the boy arrived at his building, he was relieved as ever to see May's car missing from the parking lot. Since it was still around lunch hours and it was mostly a urban area, there was little to no activity around… Good. That's good. Hurrying into the building, Peter quickly made his way to the upper floor where his place was located. He was almost 100% sure he looked dumb with how erratic he was acting, but he could honestly care less at the moment.

 

Closing the door behind him with a gentle thud, Peter quickly sped-walk towards the back of his bedroom. Still neat as ever, considering how less he was spending time in it though. Well, “neat” was a bit of an exaggeration, considering the messed up excuse that was his bed. Really should get to fixing that soon. 

 

Moving away from that subject he was bound to forget later on, Peter needed to focus. He couldn't let this get to him, otherwise people would start asking questions. He just wanted to wash his backpack and some clothes. That was his story, and he was sticking to it.

 

Grabbing at the wooden pole he kept at the side of his desk, Peter nudged the trap door at the top of his ceiling. It originally was built to easily get to the roof during construction, but it wasn’t like anyone was making any real use of it. Seeing the bag fall, suspended by a sturdy chunk of rope, he couldn’t help but feel prideful at his resourcefulness. Someone call him the teenage Mark Twain…

 

“Okay, enough showboating,” Peter told himself, reminding himself of what he should actually be doing. Carefully untying the backpack down from the rope, attempting his hardest not to accidentally graze himself with the disgusting stains, Peter threw the rope back up into the ceiling and made his way back downstairs, locking the door behind him...Only to return back inside after realizing he left the actual laundry soap behind. Having wasted too much unnecessary time, Peter rushed downstairs, not even bothering to wait for the elevator.

 

Glad to find the laundry room completely quiet and empty, he felt himself grow a bit more relieved, not needing to be so secretive as he thought. Going to the first washing machine he saw, the boy rolled up his sleeves and got to work. For once, he was glad for all that repetitive lessons May had him do which was really a excuse to have him do the laundry himself. Something always to be appreciated and/or feared by that woman.

 

It wasn’t much trouble in the long run. The only real issue Peter had was attempting to load it… Of course, he still had to properly unfold each item, eventually resigning himself to needing to get his hands dirty. There was a sink and hand towels here, so he really shouldn’t be complaining too much. After taking care of the first load, he immediately scrubbed every surface of his palms clean as could be...Hopefully incidents like this won’t happen again. Once was more than enough. Only solution was to get more creative with his hiding spots.

 

Letting the clothing toss around within the dryer, Peter figured it would be a good time to finally let himself catch a breather. From the morning to the late afternoon, he had not much of a chance to really look at his situation. Everything just happened to a point where time felt non-existent. Back then, days like these would drag on for an eternity… Probably for the best. RIght now, all he had left to do was kill time.

 

So...He really was resigned to doing this. No turning back… So far, the worse Peter managed to handle was a couple of street thugs with blades. Now, there was the potential threat of running into organized crime, massive artillery weapons...Nothing little, he was sure of that...Maybe he really should get the FBI involved if it comes to that… Come to think of it, he never actually came up with a method on how to get into contact with the police without the use of his smartphone. He’d have to invest in a burner sometime in the future. Something told him sticky notes weren’t going to be enough this time.

 

Still, planned or not… He was genuinely scared of the unknown. No exhilarating action, jumping across a billboard or riding the tops of trains. These kinds of criminals would probably be ready to kill. This was something he pondered with for so long. He was always aware of the slim possibility he would be wounded or worse, even with his overpowered healing, should he continue the crime-fighting...Maybe he should stick to the daylight. Stay away from the more serious dange-…

 

What was he thinking?! Why was he getting cold feet now? He had the abilities to face against the bigger fish, why should he be wasting away his potential? He had a responsibility now, whether he liked it or not, to keep the people of NY safe. To protect the people the Avengers didn’t care about. He was stronger than this…

 

Sitting on the benches, patiently waiting for the beep of the dryer, Peter felt himself enter a state of silence. Forcing the fear to the deepest depths away from his mind, all that was left was a sense of determination. If he didn’t do this...No one else would.

 

Taking a deep breath, Peter resigned himself to his plan. No turning back.

 

The boy couldn’t be any more relieved once the dryer finished its final cycle.

 

Quickly getting up from the bench, Peter went over to remove his items from the machine. He was surprised at how soft and nice the fabric felt against his hands. Like touching a literal cloud. Either way, he had everything he needed. Stuffing the costume back into his backpack, Peter slung the bag over his shoulders once again, going back to his apartment.

 

He still had plenty of time to kill before midnight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...This chapter is much shorter than the ones before, I know. We all already know what drives Matt, everyone and their grandmother knows. I figured I should dedicate a plot where Peter finally begins to realize the situation he has placed himself, knowing that he isn't entirely invincible. Something the MCU doesn't incorporate into him until at the very last moment. It also helps to begin developing Peter away from the carefree, exciting tone that Spider-Man: Homecoming was, throwing him into more serious and mature mindsets that the other heroes other than the Avengers experience. Hopefully I got my point across. Rest assured, Matt will get some more attention soon enough, with some potential cameos from other characters. Hope you enjoyed and continue to support by giving kudos and telling me your thoughts. Makes my day to see the kind words you guys have. Until next time.


	7. Slow Burn

**_“Thump”…_ **

 

**_“Thump”…_ **

 

**_“Thump”…_ **

  
  
  
  
  


_ “Calling it in early?” May asked, still reclining in the living room, gazing at her nephew, already dressed in his sleepwear. _

 

_ “Yeah...Not feeling too hot today,” Peter replied, not wanting to give much away. “Just gonna sleep it off, see how that goes.” _

 

_ “I guess. You barely touched your dinner,” said his aunt, turning off the TV. “You sure you don't need anything? I can cancel my shift tomorrow if you need me here…” _

 

_ “No- Um. It's cool, really,” the boy quickly answered. “You said you had to take care of some trainees, right? I'll be fine on my own.” _

 

_ “...Alright.” _

 

_ Getting up from her seat, May removed the glasses off of her face, placing them into her pocket as she walked over to her boy. Before he could even escape to his room, the woman pulled him back by the collar, keeping him in a tight embrace… _

 

_ “Pete...You know I love you, right?” _

 

_ Peter felt himself grow stunned at his aunt's sudden act of affection, feeling his face grow a bit blushed… “Um...Yeah.” _

 

_ “I know, times are hard right now… Believe me, I would like nothing more than to skip tomorrow if you're struggling with something. If there's anything...Anything I can help you with… Please. Don't be afraid to ask. You're my kid. Can't be giving up on you just yet.” _

 

_ Without any hesitation, Peter felt the guilt build up continuously within his chest. As much as he wanted to believe her words, he just couldn't. Stuffing the guilt deeper within his body, Peter hugged the woman back, giving a muttered “Love you too,” as a response, not able to come up with a much more meaningful phrase… _

 

_ Releasing the boy from her hold, May was able to keep the same smile she always had whenever she needed to act confident, turning the boy towards the direction of his room, giving him a decent shove in good manner. “Night. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon.” _

 

_ Returning a forced smile, Peter looked back at May, trying to ignore the constant doubt brewing within the pit of his thoracic as he spoke up. _

 

_ “Night.” _

  
  
  
  


**_“Thump”..._ **

 

**_“Thump”..._ **

 

**_“Thump”..._ **

 

Dressed in the suit, with the exception of his mask, Peter found himself sitting upon the rooftop of some obscure building in Brooklyn. Feeling the cold wind brush against his cheeks was enough to help soothe the blush he was still experiencing. Sitting with his back against some random steel rail, the kid kept himself amused with bouncing a rubber ball against a AC unit, having it return back to his palm with a rhythmic thump in each bounce.

 

“How do compulsive liars do it?” the boy asked himself, still tossing the ball with the same beat. Lying took more of a toll on him than expected. Maybe he was just too much of a goody two shoes for his own good. Still, lying to May's face… It just made him feel dirty. Maybe he could atone for it somehow, go visit the shelter sometime to help out with the donations… She used to drag him there a lot when he was little, letting him rummage through the kid stuff while she dealt with the donors, homeless, really anyone who came into the shelter, wanting to help or needing it. The sense of nostalgia brought a warmth to his body, feeling joyful at the memories he recalled from that place. Especially that man named Howard, with all his caged birds. Whenever May had her back turned, he would always run over to talk with the old man and examine his pets…

 

Catching the ball once more, Peter stuffed the item into his backpack, taking his web-shooters and clinging it to the side of the AC unit, protected underneath a thick coating of web fluid. Clutching his mask by his hip, the boy took off. Now seemed like a better time than any to start patrolling. He could go down memory lane later. It wasn't like he was getting any younger…

  
  
  
  
  


The first thing Matt woke up to was a feeling of congestion in his throat, his sense of smell being blocked off by a swollen nasal canal. Heaving up what felt like a massive cough, the man immediately force himself out of bed, struggling to make it to the bathroom. Even with each step, the man would cough harder, having to bring his hand over his mouth in a poor effort to soothe it.

 

Whatever he was heaving up, it clearly wasn't food. Quickly leaning over his toilet, the man struggled to breath, attempting to induce some form of vomiting. After multiple gags and heaves for air, Matt finally managed to vomit upwards a massive, slime-like liquid… Pus?...No… Phlegm?...It was phlegm. Tasting the mucus and slight hints of possible blood in his throat, that was probably the best assumption he could reach that did not involve him with a worse-case scenario.

 

Feeling himself grow disgusted, the man quickly flushed the substance down the drain, wiping his hands and lower face down with warm water and a towel… How could he be getting sick now? Especially at such a crucial time as this?

 

Perhaps the poor body maintenance had something to do with it…

 

Scolding himself after realizing his stupidity, the man left the bathroom, struggling to regain his poise as he supported himself against the wall. With his sense of smell being reduced greatly, Matt essentially had to rework his usual sense of determining his surroundings… Shouldn't be too hard, right? It wasn't like he was sniffing out gunpowder or drug cartels anymore…

 

“Okay...Okay…” Matt muttered, forcing himself off of the wall, attempting his hardest to reach the kitchen without keeling over. The man eventually slumped himself into a chair beside his table, his legs feeling weak… So, he was sick. Considering his recent woes, it would be surprising if he wasn't… How was he going to get rid of it? He wasn't expecting anyone any time in the next couple of days… That included the kid. Yes, they did agree on a call-system, the boy notifying him whenever there was a new client sending a request-by-email, but nothing he couldn't handle…

 

Was it really that long since he was actually sick?... There really wasn't a day where Matt recalled falling ill other than when he was a child. Scanning over his memory, nothing came up other than the dollar-efficient remedies the old witch came up with in the kitchen… Otherwise known as honey, tea, and a touch of lime juice… He did not have honey, limes, nor tea.

 

Maybe boiling some water will be good enough for now. It wouldn't do much, but it was better than nothing. Maybe the humid steam could also help with his sinuses. Yes, there was the risk of burning his face, but at this point, the man was desperate, even willing to saw off all his limbs just to rid himself of the constant sore throbs he experienced every morning…

 

Pushing himself off of the chair, Matt figured he should go ahead and get started. Sooner rather than later. After a good few minutes of rummaging through his cabinets, the man gave a sigh of relief once he found his usual pot, starting to build dust from its lack of use… Come to think of it, how long has it been since the last time he cooked? The last meal he had was some quick thai from the restaurant a few blocks down. Surely, that wasn’t going to bode well for his savings. For the most part, handling rent never seemed to be a issue until now, lacking a solid job as well as his office. Despite the fact he and Foggy had split the earnings from selling the office, he was sure that he was going to run low eventually. It was important to stretch every dollar as best as he could.

 

Still, it wasn’t like he could make a home-cooked meal so easily, with the lack of groceries or even a microwave, for that matter.

 

Effectively rinsing the pot through the sink and wiping it down with a piece of cloth, Matt figured it was now clean enough for use. Pouring some fresh water into the pot, the man gingerly placed it onto the stove, carefully ensuring it was resting directly on the center of the burner. Now...To turn it on.

 

“Fuck,” the man muttered, realizing the situation he had now placed unintentionally himself, having long forgotten which knob was wired to the intended burner.

 

Okay, simple fix. Just listen to the gas leaks after turning each knob, figure out which one is linked to the right burner, and just go from there. Simple case of trial and error. Starting with the one on the far right, Matt turned the knob clockwise, focusing his hearing for a slight hiss. The result. Nothing…

 

With each passing day, Matt was starting to realize why this place was so low-priced, and it was not just because of the billboard that overlooked the windows. Why he did not realize it sooner? He rarely spent so much time in it. Continuing to fiddle with the knob, the man eventually gave up, figuring that one didn’t seem to be wired correctly. Going onto the next remaining knobs, the man finally struck gold with the third, the gas hitting directly underneath the pot.

 

After holding the knob to the far left for a few moments, the flames finally erupted from the burner, the man sensing the overwhelming heat radiate from the source. Lowering the dial until the fire reached a reasonable height and temperature, Matthew allowed the water to boil for the time being, going back to handle the rest of his dust-layered dishes and cutlery. Though, he should probably be more concerned with the constant throbs throughout his body, otherwise it would make it all the more difficult to get through the day. Despite the fact that sounded similar to the justification a addict would use, Matt simply decided to go ahead and use the painkillers he had stored in one of the cabinets. He wasn’t a addict, that was for sure. He could hold his alcohol just fine and never touched unconventional drugs for a moment in his life. This would be no different. He had no concussions, no recent trauma, there really shouldn’t be no problem taking the pills at the moment.

 

Figuring he was starting to waste time mentally rambling to himself, Matt took the initiative, walking over to the shelf near his door. Twisting the cap off of the bottle, he slid a few tablets out from the container and into the palm of his hand, the pills feeling cold against his skin. Wasting no time, Matt slid the unnecessary pills back into the container, leaving one for him to dry swallow in one gulp, doing so with ease. Screwing the cap back onto the bottle, Matt went over to take a seat on his couch, resting his head on a pillow as he waited for the medicine to take effect. Once it did, then he could go and turn off the stove… After what felt like an eternity, or more or less 25 minutes, Matthew felt his mind grow light off of the opioid, his posture becoming a little less stiff. True, he felt a bit tired and somnolent, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle.

 

Part of him didn’t want to bother getting up, simply wanting to rest for a few moments… It shouldn’t be too much trouble, right? He’s had a long week, he at least deserved a quick power nap, if only for a few minutes. Figuring it wouldn’t hurt to rest for a few moments, the man finally allowed himself to give into his unmet need for self-preservation, allowing himself to succumb to the couch, laying on his side. Allowing his eyelids to fall, Matt entered a state of half-sleep, somewhat aware of his vulnerability and yet allowing it to dull his mind.

 

He wasn’t sure for how long he was lying down, but after what seemed like a reasonable time period, Matt finally stretched out of his relaxation, cracking his shoulders with a satisfying crackle. Maybe he was starting to get too old for his own good. Pushing his body up from the couch, Matt would immediately find himself faced with a massive wave of discomfort in the form of drowsiness. This day really wasn’t his, was it? After managing to get back up on his own two feet, Matt returned to the kitchen, not bothering to examine the water as he turned off the stove. Grabbing at some mug which resided within the sink, Matt picked up the handle of the pot, trying his hardest not to spill a drop.

 

Having the mug carefully set onto the counter, Matt attempted to keep a steady hand as he brought the pot closer. Gingerly bringing the pot over to the cup, Matt tilted it until he was sure the water was pouring directly into the mug. Stopping at what he believed to be a reasonable amount, the man finally allowed his arm to relax as he rested the pot nearby. Grabbing at the mug’s handle, Matt carelessly took a sip, not realizing how burning the temperature of the liquid was. Startled, the man stumbled back, carelessly allowing the mug to slip from his hands. Attempting to catch it, all attempts in vain, the mug shattered against his right foot, the boiling liquid burning his leg greatly. 

 

“Shit!!” he cried out, feeling the damage almost instantaneously, clutching at his burning foot. Shouting in pain and agony, Matt clutched onto the counter, carefully walking back as he attempted to get away from the range of the mess. Breathing a bit panicked and ragged, Matt soon found himself facing the realization of his foot being pricked with minor shards of ceramic, along with the blistering pain of having a decent chunk of the epidermal layer of his skin burned away.

 

Frustrated, the man couldn’t help it but slam his fist into the counter, his knuckles growing a bit bruised. All because of his stupid carelessness for not taking into account the temperature. Struggling to maintain his composure, Matt simply leaned against the counter, slightly massaging his foot as he attempted to soothe the pain… 

 

He couldn’t do this alone. At least, not like this… As much as he hated to admit it, he needed help.

  
  
  
  
  


Jogging was the worst… Especially in New York.

 

The woman was already running short of breath as she started to reach her place once again. Taking a quick pit stop, Claire twisted the cap off of her bottle and took a quick swig, not hesitating to continue her running. She really needed to pace herself. Trying to build up her strength was not at all a easy task.

 

Still, considering the crazy shit she's experienced so far, she wasn't interested in playing the part of damsel in distress.

 

Ignoring the passing faces as they came and went, Claire continued, not slowing down for a mere moment. Yes, she wasn't used to pushing her body like this, but it was the only way she was going to get more fit. A necessary evil.

 

Finally reaching her stop, Claire brought herself to a screeching halt as she attempted to catch her breath, finishing what remained in the bottle as she entered her building. Making her way up the staircase, she found herself fumbling with her keys for a few moments until she managed to get the door open… Another thing that sucked about New York...Staircases. Climbing up the floors until she managed to reach her apartment, Claire was a dripping mess. Opening her door, the woman immediately made a beeline for the couch, dropping with the grace of a elephant onto the furniture. She was exhausted...It’ll all be worth it in the long run, of course…

 

Alright. She already made a solid schedule for herself this day. It was a bright Tuesday, and she still had much to do. Finding work…Could’ve been much better, but due to the fact she was faced with little to no work nowadays. Despite the job market, there have been...specific limitations as to why Claire has been unable to find another job without having connections. Still, thanks to her recent... _ acquaintances _ , she was able to take a breather for the past week or two… Still, with them having disappearing with no trace, it left the woman restless. Part of her wondered if they were ever intending on coming back.

 

Still, she wasn’t their mother. And less people to treat in the dead of night should be a blessing in disguise. If it wasn’t for Rand taking a interest and sponsoring her for her medical work, Claire wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep the lights on… Kinda surprised her how much she still had to thank for Danny’s influence, despite his poor social understanding and naivety. Regardless, she was simply thankful for Rand, having offered her a job as part of their medical teams… After she had her resume properly scanned over, she would gladly begin working once again...If she was properly equipped. As much as she disliked the way it sounded, she was inexperienced to be part of Rand, there being much more talented doctors and scientists that money could find. Even though with Danny’s encouragement, it didn’t seem like her place. Pondering over it for a while, she soon thought back to her original plans back while she was still studying, the dream of opening her own clinic… Maybe it was about time to attempt making that a reality... But for now, she had little to no things to take up her time. Probably for the best. Most people would kill for this free time, Claire being one of them.

 

Still tempted to sleep the remainder of the morning away, the woman eventually forced herself from her position of relaxation, attending to her daily maintenance around the place. Opening the curtains to allow the sunlight into her house, she figured now would be a good time to start making herself some well-deserved breakfast. She had money, and she was going to enjoy the vacation time it bought her.

 

Making use of a few freshly store-bought eggs and leafy greens, Claire felt her attitude pick up a bit in positivity as the wavering scents of the omelet reached her sense of smell. Feeling the rumble in her abdomen, she was more than ready to begin eating. Thinking about it...It’s been quite a while since she really had anything to worry about. Ever since Danny and Colleen said their goodbyes...Things have been rather peaceful, even by NY standards...Too peaceful, actually. Not a word has been heard from Dillard or her flying monkeys, or anything related to… You know. Perhaps New York could finally reach a short period of tranquility in this crazy world. 

 

As much as she wanted it to last, she knew very well that there would be some new danger to look out for, constantly worrying her greatly. In a poor effort to calm herself, she began attempting to hone her body, so she could be prepared to handle such danger. Still...It felt so pitiful of her when she could only feel safe with a pistol resting underneath her pillow.

 

She wasn’t going to allow herself to be the damsel again.

 

Seeing as she was now starting to overthink things, Claire quickly took calm, deep breaths to calm herself, re-adjusting her composure as she continued to cook. Yes, there was going to be some new threat that she was bound to be involved in, but that shouldn’t stop her from enjoying the peace she currently had to experience. Whatever it was, she just hoped she wouldn’t have to face it alone. Her hope only rose when she looked over her calendar, counting down the remaining months that were left, dreaming of being reunited with him once again… The very thought brought a strong warmth to her heart…

 

Getting lost in her fantasies once again, Claire soon forced herself out of her daydreaming once she realized the omelet was starting to grow a bit burnt. Turning the stove off, she slid the food onto a ceramic place with ease as she began to pour herself a mug of freshly made coffee. Taking her meal back to the table, Claire began to partake in her meal as she turned on the television, scrolling into the news.

 

For the most part, with the current political whirlwind relating to superhumans and their positions in modern society, Claire felt it was best to keep up to date, despite her constant cringing over the struggle with the new terrigenesis crisis, many chanting for inhumans to be locked away like rabid animals… Honestly, with the current political scene, it was difficult for her to merely keep her composure as she listened to the constant ignorant speeches for those advocating against the rights that belonged to enhanced individuals. Many went as far as to theorize that the real reason that Luke was arrested was due to his recent fame as a enhanced, attempting to downgrade the idea that superhumans were above the law. Having that information misinterpreted simply brought anger down on her, wanting to knock the teeth clean off of the person who initially suggested such a theory.

 

It was a dangerous time to be a superhuman right now, with many having to constantly watch over their backs.

 

Continuing her meal, Claire was relieved once the segment relating to the inhuman debate finally phased over, moving onto the more recent and relevant news. However, the feeling of satisfaction was short-lived once she was what they were reporting, almost choking on her coffee as she listened.

 

_ “So, Tom. You mentioned earlier that we have some recent news potentially involving one of New York’s most recent vigilante sighting, yes?” _

 

_ “Of course, Dianne. With the recent criminal activity in New York taking a odd direction, especially with the arrest of Luke Cage and the recent rumors surrounding the disappearance of Daniel Rand, another potential superhuman who was believed to be deceased for the last ten or so years, many have begun to believe that there is a new sight of fresh blood on the scene, possibly related to the man who started it all, Daredevil. We now move onto Oliver Williams over at Greenwich for more insight.” _

 

_ “Thank you, Tom. As you can currently see behind me, there are police officials still investigating what believes to be a busted drug trade-off between several men within the proximity of the meatpacking district, famously being the original headquarters for human trafficking. As you can see, police officials are taking quite the time to examine what exactly went down, as there appears to be more chemicals involved other than the narcotics spotted, as it was claimed the men were found suspended from long, silk ropes which dissolved over the period of an estimated two to three hours. As for the person responsible for the detainment of these individuals, witnesses believe it is what has been recently dubbed by the daily bugle as the 2nd Daredevil, as it was a single individual, donning a similar color scheme to the original vigilante and going after these criminals in the dark of night. We’ll be sure to keep you updated with any news relating to this new activity, and as always, I’m Oliver Williams. Back to you, Tom.” _

 

Claire honestly could not believe what she was hearing. Matt goes off the grid for what seems to be months and suddenly starts his double life once again? As much as she didn’t want to believe it, it just struck out as something Murdock would do, considering her previous experience with the man. He constantly had this superficial belief that he should carry the burden alone on his shoulders, so quickly donning a new suit and playing the role of a new vigilante did not sound out of the ordinary with him…

  
Though...Why did she care so much? The last time Claire even spoke of Matt, it was her telling his acquaintance that she wanted no part in his activities any longer… Whatever Matthew did was no longer her problem… Maybe it was just the shock of hearing about him again after so long is what rubbed her wrong. Just felt like such a asshole move on his part. Just fitting with Matt’s character.

 

Deciding it would be best to turn off the television, Claire finished her meal in silence, trying not to overreact at something that did not involve her in the slightest. Whatever that asshole did was no longer her problems… She was done with that part of her life. Still, it was not something she could forget so easily… Matt was the whole reason she was thrown into this new way of living, for better or for worse. Whatever he was up to, she was just glad he took her request to heart and hadn’t chosen to contact her in ages…

 

Almost incredibly coincidental, it was at that time her smartphone chose to vibrate, the caller ID being unrecognizable…

  
  
  
  
  


...She was actually doing this. Despite how many times she told herself it was a stupid idea, she just couldn’t help herself, finding pity in the man...Pity, and the desire to give the man a word or two about self-preservation and living like a normal, functioning adult.

 

“Matt?” she called out, knocking on the door as she waited patiently in the hall. Apartment 6A, as always. As expected, not much of an answer. Growing annoyed, Claire brought her hand to the door, surprised at the fact it was already open. Swearing at her own foolishness and stupidity, she entered, slamming the door behind her.

 

“Murdock, I swear to god, if you have so much as a torn muscle ligament, I’m going to take it and shove it up your a-....”

 

Claire halted with her scolding, observing the sight before her eyes, meeting Matt’s gaze as his eyes were rimmed red with exhaustion and pain. Finding some crude humor in the whole meeting, the man forced a pitiful smile as he looked up at her, not having any actual bruising other than the disgusting sight that was his foot. Stepping around the shattered ceramic fragments and water residue, she stood in front of the man, not sure what to say, considering how many harsh words she had prepared… It just felt wrong of her to kick him while he was down.

 

“...What the hell happened?” she asked, observing the mess around them. There were already shards that have been unintentionally crushed under her shoes, a pot filled with water sitting alone on the counter, long since becoming cold. A earthquake may as well have struck the place, with how disastrous it appeared.

 

Matt simply couldn’t help but give a solemn, empty chuckle under his breath, looking back towards Claire once again. “If I told you I forgot the basic methods of boiling water, would you believe me?” his voice sounding quite hoarse and pained.

 

“...Yes, actually,” she replied brushing the fragments out of the bottom of her sneakers.

 

“...Did you bring the kit?” he asked, sounding ashamed and quite embarrassed. He used to be the defender of Hell’s kitchen...Now, he could barely boil some water without injuring himself. Giving a tired sigh, Claire nodded, placing the medical supply kit onto the table and taking a seat next to Matt, helping him place his injured foot against her lap.

 

“So...You seem fine…”

 

“Save the small talk, Matthew,” she replied, not in the mood for conformity at the moment. Bringing her attention to his foot, she pulled out a pen from the kit, prodding directly at the wound. Seeing the man wince back, almost pulling his foot away from her, she found herself relieved at the reaction, tossing the pen aside as she continued to examine it. “So, it seems you only managed to burn away the epidermal or dermal skin layer during your little mishap.”

 

“...What does that mean?” he asked, unsure of what Claire was saying.

 

“It means that you didn’t end up burning away the nerve cells or anything else important here. Now, it’s just a case of keeping it from getting infected, since it should heal in sometime in the next two weeks or so…”

 

Matt remained silent after that, unsure of what exactly he was supposed to say here as he attempted to keep a straight face, with every little gesture Claire made against his foot feeling as if it was a sharp stab of pain against the damaged skin. Still, he remained prominent, keeping his leg as stiff as a board, toughening through it, for the most part… Plucking each individual shard away from the sole of his foot, Claire wiped it down with a slightly cool, wet cloth, making sure there was nothing left protruding from the limb.

 

“Keep that foot still,” she said, lifting Matt’s leg up so she could stand once again, going to his kitchen. Making use of the pot that had been abandoned, she emptied the water out, filling it with a fresh, lukewarm supply. Returning back, she placed the pot onto the floor, submerging his foot into the liquid. Matt grunted slightly at the sudden gesture, but followed her implied directions as he kept it directly into the water…

 

“...Just finished washing the dishes,” he jested, Claire ignoring his dark humor as she grabbed a nearby broom. From the looks of it, it seemed like Matt at least made a attempt to clean it himself, eventually giving up as the shards seemed to be gathered mostly into a poorly made pile. Making use of the dustpan and wet cloth, Claire gathered the shards from the floor, dumping the mess into the trash bin beside her as Matthew watched, unable to really do much to help.

 

“...Sorry,” he followed, sounding a bit more somber and sincere in his voice.

 

“...You know… Really should be keeping a track of a bill or something,” Claire said, sounding less annoyed than before. It was a start, at least. Putting the broom and dustpan aside, Claire returned to her seat, elbows resting onto the table as she gazed in the distance, the windows allowing for a bright, cool winter blue to envelop the room’s hue.

 

Sensing her paced breaths, Matt attempted to speak up, but just couldn’t figure out what he was supposed to say in this situation. Much to oppose Claire’s belief, he wasn’t exactly fond of the painful tension he had created between the two over the past months they spent away from one another. Maybe it was just best to stay silent and wait out the time. Choosing to hold his tongue, Matt leaned against the table, waiting patiently as he was now reduced to a sitting duck, hoping for Claire to handle the burden of initiating a conversation.

 

The man was surprised once he realized a blanket was draped around his shoulders, not even noticing Claire’s movements as he was engulfed by his own thoughts.

 

“It’s not exactly necessary, but I’d rather not take any chances here...You also looked a bit cold.”

 

Matt remained silent for a while, looking down at the floor as he remained unsure of what to say at the sudden comfort he was receiving from the woman. He couldn’t help but do nothing to prevent the blood rushing to his cheeks as he pulled the blanket closer over his body, taking comfort in it’s warmth…

 

He didn’t deserve these acts of kindness… Especially from her.

 

“...Thank you, really…”

 

Claire remained silent for a few more moments, before finally deciding to speak up once again. “So, other than looking like complete shit, what else have you been up to recently?” she asked, sounding a little more calm than before, her blood pressure turning to a reasonable bpm. Still, the slight hint of anxiety coming from her was to be expected. Matt wasn’t doing so well himself, feeling as if he was a nervous wreck, carefully pondering over his words as to not say anything to offend her.

 

“Not much that comes to mind right away,” he answered.

 

“...Wanna trade? Not sure where to begin on my end,” she replied, giving a slight chuckle at her own suspense, earning a smile from Matt. However, the mood soon returned to its original state of melancholy and silence.

 

“I...Never exactly got to apologize for all the trouble I placed you in…”

 

“Tch...Believe me, Matt. I’m starting to think it has something to do with me rather than you.”

 

“...”

 

“Well?” Claire asked, expecting an response from Matthew.

 

“Hm?”

 

“Usually when someone says that they never got a chance to apologize, it’s usually followed by a apology,” she replied, making the man blush a bit in response, purely out of embarrassment.

 

“Right...Sorry,” he answered, realizing his mistake. “I...I’m sorry, for all the trouble I caused for you in the past… It really wasn’t my place to expect so much from you… Or...So little, I suppose.” Stuttering over his words, all Matt could manage after that was a simple plea for forgiveness, “I truly hope we can move past this,” being what was left he was able to say aloud, trying his best to sound sincere, his heart beating a thousand times faster…

 

“Matt…”

 

“Yeah?...”

 

“The tips of your ears are turning red… I’ve only seen you do that once, and I think I know the reason why…”

 

Matt stopped in his words, unsure of what he should say in response. As much as Foggy claimed he was a charmer with the opposite gender, it sure as hell wasn’t feeling like that held any truth anymore. Maybe it was just denial? The hope of wanting to hold another in his embrace?...It just felt...insincere. A lust, rather than love. Unable to determine what he was supposed to say here, Matt simply looked away, trying to mask the obvious hesitated look he wore on his face.

 

“Look...Matt. Whatever we had in the past… I don’t think it’s worth revisiting. We both know how that ended up, and there really is nothing left to even attempt to rebuild…” Claire said, noticing Matt’s hesitation in his body language. “Besides...I...think I already found someone else I want to devote my time to… Someone who’s much more...sincere.”

 

Matt felt a sting to his pride once again at Claire’s words, unsure of what to say… The same reason Karen chose to leave as well. Guess it really was just his own fault in the end for ruining all his relationships. Then again, what else was new?

 

“I… That’s great to hear,” he replied, trying his best to lighten the mood as he attempted to hold a somber smile on his face. Still, he sensed some tension from her, as if she was avoiding something that she still wished to ask.

 

“Matt… Be real with me,” she asked, gaining his complete attention once again as he faced her. “I know I don’t have whatever weird lie detector you have, but I want you to be honest. No more lies or half truths… Please?”

 

Matt hesitated for a moment, aware of the obvious answer he was supposed to say, but still having trouble letting the words out. After a few moments of silence, just when it seemed Claire was about to give up, he answered.

 

“Yes…Of course.”

 

“...Are you still going around as Daredevil?”

 

Raising a eyebrow at Claire, the obvious expression of surprise was written all over his face. That...wasn’t exactly what he was expecting to hear. Still, he couldn’t exactly back up on his word now… “No...And I don’t ever intend to. I’ve decided to put that life behind me. From here on out, it’s just Matthew Murdock…” he answered, hoping Claire would believe him.

 

“Then, what about this whole 2nd Daredevil thing? No clue who they are?”

 

“2nd Daredevil?” Matt asked, not sure of what Claire meant. The wording sounded all brand new to him. Then again, the man rarely took part in watching the news, considering his lack of a actual television or social media. He didn’t exactly enjoy the emotional baggage that came with it, along with the fact he was unable to actually see, making it all the more difficult to use a smartphone.

 

Not wanting to explain the whole incident again, Claire simply pulled out her smartphone as she began to search for the intended video. In a few moments, she tapped onto the screen, the news report from earlier that day playing, Matt listening intently on what they had to say… After the clip finished, he wasn’t sure what to make of it. He reclined back in his chair, pondering over it for a moment as Claire waited in silence for an answer. From the looks of it, whoever this 2nd Daredevil was, they weren’t intent on harming any innocents, nor killing their targets, which consisted of mostly criminals. The only real similarities other than that was the supposed color scheme and area they both operated in. Red, and New York.

 

“No. This is the first time I’m hearing about it,” he said, earning a sigh from Claire.

 

“So...You aren’t worried about it at all?” she asked, placing the smartphone aside as she stared at the man.

 

“Why should I? From the looks of it, it’s just someone else using my name to do good. They’re protecting the people of New York, and aren’t going around killing their targets. By all means, this is a blessing in disguise,” he finished, sounding completely uninterested in the subject. He already abandoned the identity of Daredevil. By all means, he could care less what happened to the persona if it didn’t involved anything that resulted in killing or harming innocent people.

 

“You’re not at all concerned? Not one bit?”

 

“Nope,” he replied, popping at the P sound as he relaxed his posture, the pain resonating from his foot slowly becoming less and less of a burden on him.

 

“...You really are a piece of work, Matthew,” she finished, sounding a bit more calm at the man’s honesty… At least Matt was able to do something right for once. That alone was enough to give him a slight rise in hope… That maybe he wasn’t so alone here after all. He just had to stop handling the burden himself…

 

Truthfully, he had never felt so much weight lifted off of his chest in so little time.

 

“...Aren’t you at least hungry? You said you were trying to cook something earlier, and from the looks of it…”

 

“Starving, actually…”

 

Sighing as she pulled the med kit towards her once again, Claire brought her phone back with her free hand, dialed the number, and handed it over to Matt with no hesitation. Confused, Matt stared back at her, unsure of what he was supposed to do with it…

 

“Panucci’s Pizza. My treat. Order what you like,” she said as she lifted Matt’s foot from the pot. Staring at her in confusion for a moment, Matt obliged by her request and spoke into the smartphone, leaving Claire to tend to his injuries for the time being…

 

Feeling a bit more light in attitude, Matthew couldn’t help but smile. Once he finished placing his order, he placed the smartphone back in Claire’s direction, simply allowing himself to for once, take it easy. Feeling a bit more open-minded, the tension from before all but gone, he spoke up once again to take his mind off of the constant throb in his foot.

 

“Come to think of it...There’s something I did forget to mention,” he said, causing Claire to glance towards him with a sense of curiosity.

 

“...Just got a intern a few days back. Name was Peter… Bright kid, really.” he said, not afraid to brag about his boy for a moment. He deserved it, honestly, considering he managed to handle Matt with the utmost respect.

 

“An intern? You’re still handling clients?”

 

“Well...At the moment, no. He’s been helping me out with the advertising recently. Good kid. Couldn’t ask for more than that.”

 

“Hm...You really should introduce me to him sometime, let me see the brightness for myself,” Claire replied, smiling a bit as she wiped away the excess water from Matt’s foot, already beginning to apply the pre-wrap.

  
  
  
  
  


“...You know… I really should.”

  
  
  
  
  


Peter couldn’t help but grin at the support he saw the more he looked into the results and reactions from the most recent news report as he stood in the shelter, keeping a eye over the people roaming through the donation bins… Shoving his smartphone back into his pocket, he kept that upbeat attitude going as he attempted to help the people rummaging through the items, speaking with that usual charm he seemed to possess naturally.

 

He may have been tired, exhausted, and beaten as hell… But it was all worth it in the end...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, it's Claire. I was honestly surprised at how abruptly their relationship ended in the actual source material, so I felt the need to at least have the two reunite during the period of tranquility between Iron Fist S1 and The Defenders. Felt relaxing simply to have some hurt/comfort and somewhat handle unresolved tension between the two characters. Really happy with how it ended up with. They still have some issues to take care of, but it's a good start.
> 
> As for all of you who were expecting to see Spider-Man in action, I am so sorry, but it's going to have to wait a while. There was a attempt to do so in the rough draft, but it just felt awkward to read afterwards. Still need some improving with writing action sequences to make them feel with a bit more impact. (Pun absolutely intended.) 
> 
> Until next time.


	8. A man's reputation - Part 1

No one could adjust to the high life so easily. It was the reason lottery winners usually went bankrupt afterwards or worse. Why riches soon became rags. It was funny in some cruel way. More money, more problems.

Still, it had its occasional perks to be rubbing elbows with the wealthy, as much as she hated to admit it. Sure enough, Page found out the hard way as she sat down in a such a elaborate looking bar, styled with marble counters and white, pristine walls. Technically, this was a casual place to dine if you had the cash, but the more Karen stared at the lamented menu in her grasp, the more she couldn't help but feel like she had to split the bill 50/50 afterwards. Even a small plate of fries could be considered torture against her wallet.

After forcing herself to put the menu down to ease her mind, she couldn't help but glance towards the entrance at the slightest sound. After the first four or five times, she was relieved to see the familiar, pudgy, charismatic face with shaggy blonde hair. “You know, I wasn't sure if you were going to make it,” she muttered with a slight hint of sarcasm.

“Sorry. Got held up at the office,” replied Foggy, loosening his tie slightly as he held the door open. Following right behind him, was someone Karen didn't exactly expect to see. Yeah, he did mention he was bringing a plus one, but the woman figured he meant someone among the lines of a co-worker… Or family…

Considering the busty form she had, despite her attempts at dressing casually, Karen was 90% sure this girl did not fit the criteria of either.

Speaking with a bubbly voice, the girl in question brought herself towards Karen with a model-like smile. “Hi,” she exclaimed. “Foggy's told me so many good things about you, but never thought I'd get the chance to meet you in person.”

“Um, it's a pleasure,” Karen muttered with a slightly forced smile, feeling blood rise to her cheeks. For once, she was thankful for the perks of wearing makeup, making it not so noticeable. “Karen Page,” she said, shaking the woman's hand as she sat down.

“Marci Stahl,” she replied, sitting besides her as Foggy slipped off his coat, soon rejoining the group. Already, Karen felt envy for how easily this person was adjusting, wishing she could shove this sense of awkward tension down to the depths of her core. But, it wasn't like she was a journalist for knowing how to use a computer. Dealing with varied people was a part of her job.

Just sucked that this person was already doing better than her.

“We didn't keep you waiting that long, did we?” Foggy asked, sitting besides Marci as the two waited patiently for Karen to answer. Looking over to the man in question, Karen could very well tell that under that charismatic expression, Foggy had his concerns on how this would turn out.

“Oh, not at all! Just… I mean, look at this place,” Karen answered, hoping to shift the conversation for the better.

“Yeah. Ain't no ol’ bar in the boonies.” Foggy shrugged, quickly donning a casual smirk on his face. “We're finally moving up in the world.”

“Tell me about it,” the woman replied, caressing the menu with her pointed finger around the edge. “Almost feel a bit guilty letting you guys pay,” she said with a more laid back expression, the man's usual joy helping put her at ease.

“Nonsense,” Foggy said, leaning over the counter as he rested his arm over Marci's shoulder. “What kind of man would I be if I didn't treat two ladies to a nice meal once in a while?”

“Kinda downplaying my contribution, aren't you?” Marci muttered with slight blush in her face, joking with her significant other. Brushing Foggy's arm side, she brought her attention back to Karen, still keeping a casual, laid back expression. “After that big break at Pym technologies, it seemed like a perfect chance to celebrate. What better way to do so than invite you to dinner? By the way, your story was astounding, to say the least.”

“Well, that depends if you consider an entire building collapsing within itself astounding,” Karen replied, feeling a bit awkward at the sudden praise.

“Come on, don't sell yourself short! It's a privilege to finally get to know one of New York's new faces of journalism,” Marci continued. “Plus, it's definitely a breath of fresh air when all you hear about nowadays is men in tights being political.”

“I-...Thank you,” Karen stuttered slightly. Not sure where to go to from there, she figured she may as well go with the cliché question that could help out a bit with the uncomfortable feeling in her chest. “So, how long have you two been a thing, if you don't mind me asking?”

“Um… a while now, I suppose,” Foggy answered, scratching his head. “We just started talking again and one thing eventually led to another. Now… Here we are,” he finished, clapping his hands against his lap. “Just wish finding girls was always this easy,” the man added with a joking tone and a slight chuckle.

“Don't push your luck,” the woman responded with a similar smirk. At least the two shared a similar sense of humor, Karen thought to herself. Still, to think the girl Foggy spoke so casually about would be this significant to him. From what Karen believed, she merely assumed they were nothing more than friends with benefits…

“So, shall we get to ordering then?” Foggy asked, sounding a bit more confident in his speech. Perhaps a bit too confident. Karen just couldn't help but feel something was… Out of place, so to speak. Yes, the restaurant was great, and everyone seemed to be in a good mood… What was her deal? 

Not wanting to raise any concern, Karen gave a slight shrug and nod to the others, picking up the menu once again… “Foggy, not to sound rude but you're sure you guys are alright with paying? I feel like we should at least split the bill,” she said, starting to grow a bit anxious. Sitting here in such a grand restaurant… Hell, it didn't even feel like she belonged in such a place…

“Karen, come on. You are our guest,” said Foggy as he looked over his menu. “If it makes you feel any better, this place'll be lucky enough to even make a small dent in my wallet, I say,” he continued, using the tone of a cartoonishly exaggerated wealthy man. As cringy as it was, Karen couldn't help but feel the tips of her mouth curl upwards at the sudden gesture. It wasn't enough to put her at ease completely, but it was still something…

“Alright, Nelson. You win,” she said, submitting to Foggy's persuasion after a few moments of hesitation. Picking up her menu, she figured she may as well order something not so heavy, but not light enough that it was obvious she was going for a cheaper meal… Not for the price, but rather… Yeah, it was just for the price. Allowing her shoulders to relax slightly in a effort to soothe her unnatural doubts, she browsed over the menu as a waiter walked over to take note of their order.

 

 

“See… Moral of the story. Never hitchhike. Matt and I ended up half naked in a ditch after Halloween was over, no clue about what happened except for the fact we had a giant sack of candy corn with us.”

Karen felt herself grow a bit more at ease as time went on, as Foggy continued to ramble on her behalf. Part of her actually wondered if these stories were exaggerated, but one thing was certain. The man knew well how to read a room. What other reason would he be telling bizarre stories from his college days other than to keep the mood easy-going?

“Um… How is Matt, actually?” she asked with slight hesitation…

As soon as the words left her mouth, Karen immediately felt regret. What foolishness was it to bring up such a sensitive topic at a casual time? But, before she could even speak up and come up with a solution, Foggy already seemed ready with a answer, a slightly tired expression forming over him…

“Not up to much, really… Said he plans to get back into the court soon enough,” he answered, not seeming so distraught as his tone of speech remained quite casual, yet sullen at the same time. “Why'd you ask?”

“Oh, um…”

Karen hesitated for a brief moment, unsure of what to say. Already, the table had a awkward tension. Looking over to Marci, she seemed as if she wanted to say something to help the situation, but remained quiet, as if not wanting to unintentionally make such a sensitive topic worse.

“Just crossed my mind, is all,” she said, forcing on a small smile… Foggy gave a slight sound of affirmation as he bit into his steak, the subject of Matthew being immediately swept under the rug…

Pushing her food aside for a moment in a attempt to break the silence, Marci finally spoke up, her attention directed to Karen. “So, Karen… How's it been so far at the bulletin?” she asked, starting off simple… “With all the other big media outlets, seems like you guys got some competition.”

“Does the Bugle count as competition though? They're sorta a trend-hopper paper,” Foggy brought up after biting down a piece of steak held on the prong of a silver-stained fork.

“Believe it or not, yes, actually,” Karen answered, earning a surprise from Foggy as she continued. “Some people just like the arguments that come with what's popular at the moment.”

“Lemme tell ya something, that Jameson is a real piece of work,” said Foggy as he continued to eat, starting to veer straight into a potential rant. “Had to provide the Bugle with a interview about Cage, but the guy was having none of it. Cared more about things not even related to the case.”

“You've already met him?”

“Sadly,” the man answered, going back to his speech. “The more you argue with these guys, the more they feed off of you just to make you look bad in the eyes of the public… Already stressful enough dealing with Dillard's lawyers…”

“Wow, um… Didn't think this line of work was stressing you out this much…” Karen said, her voice sounding slightly more concerned for her friend's well-being…

“Eh, Hogarth's been busting my ass left and right. Believe me, it's all worth it, especially now that we can afford to eat at places like these.”

“Thanks again, for, well… Inviting me,” Karen said, plucking apart his sandwich, bite by bite as they continued to chat. Eventually, the mood seemed to rise a bit more in the positive area, thanks to Foggy. Something she was always grateful for, was his superb ability to read a room and somehow change the tide to the benefit of everyone involved…

Still, as the dinner went on, Karen couldn't help but feel the persistent emotion of doubt, clawing at her chest with each passing second… After a few more minutes, it didn't take much long for her to start losing her appetite.

“Karen?”

“Hm?” she muttered, glancing towards the two as she held the fork in her grasp.

“Everything okay? You look a little… Out there,” Marci asked, Foggy looking at her with a concerned expression. Karen couldn't help but winced at the man's face, feeling painful memories stir up, the familiar expression reminding her of… Well...

Still, forcing a smile, Karen spoke up with a reassuring tone, putting the bravest front she could possibly muster as the thoughts of the dark interrogation room crept out of the back of her mind. Not now. She was better than this...

“Never felt better,” she said, a slight smile painted onto her face as she continued to pick away at her meal…

 

 

From: Mr. Murdock

Peter comma I was wondering if you could come to the office sometime this saturday morning to help me with some boxes period please comma let me know ahead of time if you can make it period

“...”

The young man spent a hefty amount of time reviewing the text for possibly the eleventh time today, wondering how it was even possible to use Speech-To-Text like that. Still, he should at least give credit where it was due. Mr. Murdock was really making a effort to integrate himself more efficiently into a relation with Peter. Still, he couldn't help but chuckle to himself imagining Mr. Murdock attempting to send that text, cruel as it was. For a blind man, he was certainly ranked high on the list of people Peter viewed as independent.

During the first few days of the internship, it was always a wonder how it would influence Peter's work habits. It was sorta why he did his laundry in the first place. Part of him would worry it would result in a more pressuring standpoint, but he was glad that Mr. Murdock could handle himself… Still, even if the man requested help, the boy would be more than glad to aid him…

But how to use a phone was something beyond Peter's range of teaching, especially to Mr. Murdock. One of the reasons the man had claimed he had a dislike for social media, usually allowing his other associates to handle the aggravating task of networking.

Now that, Peter could handle.

“So, tomorrow?” May questioned as she placed her own phone aside, reviewing the text on Peter's own device.

“Pretty much,” Peter answered, leaning over May's shoulder, as every teenager would when someone else was searching their smartphone. Yes, Peter made sure to keep everything spider-related off of his device, but that wasn't exactly what he was worried about. The texts he would have with Ned over stupid nerd shit, that is what he was worried about May reading. How was he going to explain that?

“All the way in Hell's Kitchen…”

“Yep. That's where he lives,” Peter said, allowing himself to relax as May handed him back his phone, sliding it back into his pocket. Yet the feeling of anxiety crawled back up his body as his aunt wore a face struck with slight concern.

Shifting her gaze away from her deep thoughts and towards her nephew, May spoke in what Peter had dubbed her “I'm your guardian and I have a right to know” tone. “Hun, how exactly is your boss?” she asked, Peter hesitating to answer at the sudden thought.

“Mr. Murdock? Well, he's alright,” he said, trying to find the right words on how to describe his employer. “Lenient, sorta chill?...”

“I see,” May answered. “When do I get to meet him?”

“Meet him?”

“Yes, meet him,” she continued. “Considering I'm entrusting my boy to a man I have never seen face-to-face, could you really expect me to be 100% okay with this?”

“Well, I-”

“Don't finish that sentence, Peter,” she interrupted. Giving a slight sigh, she kept her gaze on her kid, being sure to get through to him. “Look. Just like every parent, I'm gonna worry about you. I already met with your teachers, your friends… I think I deserve to at least meet your boss and sit down with him. Don't you think?”

“...I guess,” the boy said, resigning to the inevitable. Couldn't be so bad, right? It wasn't like she was going to bring his baby pictures and describe them to Mr. Murdock, detail by detail. It be something like a chat over coffee, quick and simple. “Just let me talk with him and we'll see how it goes.”

“I have the evening off tomorrow. How about I pick you up after you're done with your work, and I'll come in and see him myself?”

“Wait, so sudden?!”

“Is that a problem?” she responded firmly. Peter bore a hesitant look, not sure how to answer that. With his usual schedule of interning and vigilante-ing, how in the world was he going to explain that three to five hour gap to both his boss and aunt?... He'd just have to improvise. Perhaps convince Mr. Murdock to go along with the story?

“No, but-”

“Then it's settled. Better get some rest, you have a big day tomorrow,” she said, her mind resilient and unchangeable. Scratching the back of his neck, the boy figured it couldn't be helped. The walls were paper thin, so it wasn't like he could call Mr. Murdock right away and explain the situation to him… He'd just had to work it into the conversation. Hey, Mr. Murdock, the thing is that I've been lying to my aunt about where I am for a few hours after leaving your apartment, can you help me out and say I've been helping you out?”...

No, that was stupid… But it was the best he had right now.

“Alright,” he muttered, still having doubts about how he was going to do this cover-up. Saying his good nights, the boy slipped into his bedroom, feeling pretty exhausted himself. Perhaps sleeping on it would help out. He already accepted the job, all he could do from this point forward was improvise… Lots of improvising.

Of course, his overwhelming doubts did not grant him a swell slumber.

 

 

Peter arrived at Mr. Murdock's apartment sometime around… Ten-Thirty, he believed? Trying his best to keep himself from yawning, he fumbled with his key for a short while before managing to open the door, only to be met with a quiet stillness that only ghosts possessed.

Closing the door behind him, Peter glanced around the apartment, no Mr. Murdock to be found… Was he in the bathroom or something? It would be rude of him just to simply walk into his bedroom unannounced. Man, was this a serious case of Deja Vu…

Yet, his ears could only pick up the slight sounds of the streets below, no water running, no breathing… Figuring the situation called for it, Peter entered Matt's bedroom, and as he assumed, found no one. The same followed with the bathroom, the light switched off and no one inside. Growing a bit frustrated, yet keeping a composed attitude, he pulled out his smartphone and dialed the intended number…

 

 

Despite the occasional sniffle and throb in his foot, Matt felt much more stable than he was before. Pushing his sense of pride aside, he was thankful for Claire's nursing and generosity. Yes, having to stick to a more scheduled lifestyle seemed tedious to him, but he was slowly growing healthier each day. It also gave him something to do, keeping a daily list of tasks she had helped him construct. In his head, it was much more for her benefit rather than his own, seeing how hard she worked to help him maintain a healthy lifestyle. Adjusting his collar, he reclined against the old mahogany desk, dust grinding against his fingers.

The man wondered to himself how he was going to repay Claire, shifting from idea to idea in his head, working every possibility… Yet, he found himself with the realization that he did not really know her as much as he assumed he did. Another task he was going to have to resolve eventually... Giving a slight sigh at his own displeasure, Matt relaxed himself, figuring all he could do from here on out was work his way up.

Snapping himself out of his reflecting was the monotone, feminine voice that repeated the words, “Peter… Peter,” over and over again. Picking up the device and pressing the answer button, he spoke.

“Pete?”

“Hey, Mr. Murdock?” the voice from the other line sounded. Sure enough, it belonged to Peter. From what he could tell, he sounded a bit stressed.

“Everything alright, kid?” he said, finding himself cringing at the nickname. He just couldn't bring himself to call Peter names such as “kiddo” or “buddy”. It sounded far too informal. Perhaps this is why he was still “Mr. Murdock” rather than “Matt”.

Luckily for him, the boy didn't pick up at his own displeasure, continuing to speak. “Well, I'm at your place and… Where exactly are you right now?”

The man raised his brows at the boy's words, sensing that perhaps there was a miscommunication. “At my place? Peter, did my text send right?... I asked you to meet at the office. The old Nelson and Murdock?”

“...Oh shit- I am so sorry,” Peter replied, sounding a bit flustered at his sudden realization. “I figured I- Crap, I'll be there ASAP,” he said before hanging up abruptly, leaving his boss in a slightly comedic disbelief… The man could only wonder how this would end up.

Yes, His apartment wasn't necessarily far from the original office, he and Foggy used to walk there almost daily. Still, it was going to be a while until the boy arrived. Pushing himself off of the desk, Matthew stepped out of the office and into the hallway, making his way outside to wait for the young man. Settling on the steps that led up to the building, Matthew sat patiently, his thoughts going back to the issue of Claire… Was he really that out of tune with her? Reflecting back on it, their relationship revolved entirely on the identity of Daredevil. It was even that that resulted in her almost getting killed and losing her job… Some hero he was... 

But Daredevil was gone. It was Matthew Murdock know. Independent lawyer Matthew Murdock…

Something about it didn't sit right with him. The whole “independent” deal… Foggy was the charismatic and convincing, Karen was the responsible and managing… What exactly did that leave him with other than wisdom? Being able to debate wasn't going to get him any invitations to social gatherings any time soon.

Matt grew embarrassed the more he realized how much the mask had integrated into his life these past few years. It even went as far as ridding him of what made Matthew Murdock likeable. Hell, he used to be such a Tomcat back in college and yet, here he was, almost every woman he came into contact with either ending up being betrayed, injured... or worse… Who exactly was he now that he walked the streets, pretending to blend in as a normal civilian?...

Maybe this was just a blessing in disguise… Yes, he lost his best friends, his associates, his clients… 

Elektra.

But he also lost Frank Castle, Stick, the Hand, and gained Peter Parker and Claire Temple… Perhaps now was his chance to truly rediscover himself. Even if he wasn't the superhero everyone praised him for before, he was sure he could possibly pull off the good friend for the person who helped him at every opportunity, as well as a mentor for the young teenage boy that incidentally wormed his way into his daily routine.

Still, it wouldn't hurt to visit the church one more time… It's been ages since he spoke with Father Lantom. 

It would also be nice to check in with Ben and Mrs. Cardenas one more time…

Man, here he was, reflecting on the past like a old fogey, Matt thought to himself. He was pretty sure that a few people couldn't help but give slight glances to the thirty-something old man sitting on a frozen stoop. He couldn't help it but laugh at his current status, feeling a warm feeling blossom in his chest once again… Maybe it didn't hurt to be alone with his thoughts once in a while…

Maybe Claire was onto something after all…

“Mr. Murdock!”

Shifting his attention towards the youthful voice coming from a few feet to his left, Matt pulled himself up from the ground, adjusting his glasses as Peter came to a screeching halt, quickly catching his breath…

“Pete, did you run all-”

“Yes, and I'm fine…” he interrupted, quickly adjusting himself once more. Matthew couldn't help but raise his eyebrows at the kid's bizarre behavior… Perhaps he shouldn't question it too much. School was already back in session, and surely the boy must be overwhelmed with his new schedule, considering the misinterpreting text… He should probably stick to phone calls from now on. Still, the best he could do was merely take it easy with him for now.

“So…” the young man said, looking as composed as ever, as if the little mishap did not even occur. “Why exactly are we doing here again?”

“What we're doing,” Matt continued, taking on a more lecturing tone as he walked up the steps and entered the door, the boy following right behind him, “is a little bit of manual labor. I trust you saved a bit of energy after that brisk jog?” he teased. He couldn't help but notice the boy roll his eyes a bit as he gave a awkward chuckle, bringing a smile to the man's face. It wasn't a complete laugh, but he was getting there.

“Define manual labor,” replied Peter as Matthew opened the door, his answer lying in front of him as many packaged boxes and containers have been arranged, set aside from the main pile of cluttered items that looked ready to be shipped off, a dolly sitting against the wall.

“Oh,” he muttered, sounding a bit dumbfounded.

“Yeah. You wouldn't believe the story on how we got all this junk in the first place,” Matt joked, patting Peter's shoulder as he readied himself to start getting to work. However, Peter still seemed confused as to how in the hell this was going to work with a blind man being required to carry these boxes to who knows where… Clearly, Matt was able to catch on quickly.

“I know what you're thinking Pete, and rest assured, I am more than capable of carrying a few boxes. I just need your help getting what we need back to my apartment.” he said as he rolled up the sleeves to his dress shirt and lifted two boxes with ease, the remaining two meant for Peter.

“Wouldn't you want to use the dolly though?” Peter asked, a bit concerned for Matt himself. Yes, he could easily handle this with or without a second party, but to Peter, he was still without powers. It would be difficult to explain how he managed to get all these supplies from the office to his apartment by himself… Well, perhaps not that difficult, but in a way, it was a excuse to do some more justifiable work with Peter, as clients still didn't seem to show up at the door…

“Oh, that isn't mine. A U-Haul is supposed to show up later and take everything in here to storage. We just have to get what we need out of here first.”

Despite his constant reassuring, Matt still found Peter staring at him with disbelief, completely unsure of the situation unfolding before him. “Wait, why not just take the truck ourselves? Don't you know someone who could maybe drive us back to your place?!”

“Pete, come on,” Matthew muttered, attempting to bring back some of that charismatic flare he so originally possessed back in ‘06...or ‘01… It's been a while. “Just because I'm blind, doesn't mean I'm incompetent when it comes to normal tasks,” he said, continuing his rant while sporting a slight grin.

“I-I never said that,” Peter mumbled under his breath, somewhat accepting Matt's stubbornness and picking up the remaining two boxes that were left behind for himself.

“Ready to go?” Matt spoke as he balanced the two boxes against his forearm, opening the door in front of him. Peter muttered a confirming sound for the man to hear, as the two left the office, returning back outside with the boxes in tow. Stepping beside Peter's presence, Matt figured he should stay close. There was only so much he could justify without his obvious handicap. Shifting the boxes back over to one arm, the man kept his free palm rested on Peter's shoulder, expecting him to act as his guide.

“Can't exactly use my cane like this... You remember the way back?”

“R-right,” the boy muttered, as the two began their way back to the apartment complex, albeit a little slower than normal.

Matt himself, he had no problem carrying the boxes with one arm. One of the perks of being a Murdock, as he has been accused of many times by his fellow peers. Supposedly that the muscles came with the bloodline. Still, it was surprising to see that Peter had plenty of energy to spare…

Matt didn't want to be one to judge, but Peter… he did not seem much of the physical type. In fact, the kid was as thin as a twig from what he could gather. However, his heartbeat did seem… unique. Yes, he was still young, but he just couldn't help but notice how different his blood would surge through his organs. Because of this, he worried about putting the kid under much physical strain. Still, Peter was as relaxed as one could be, as if he was carrying two boxes filled with cotton and feathers. Before he could question this, he noticed Peter change a bit in his tune as he spoke up.

“So, uh, Mr. Murdock…” he said, sounding quite stutterish in his voice. “I've told you about my aunt, right?”

“Enough to know that you have one, Pete,” Matthew replied, clapping his palm against Peter's back in a casual manner. Yet, he couldn't help but notice how the boy's muscles tensed up at the gesture… Or maybe they were always that tense? There was much about Peter's body language that kept Matt guessing. That never really had been a problem before. With the many people he had met with their own unique ticks and traits, Peter was one who often stumped the man on his exact emotion and tone, sometimes leaving things to assumption. Still, probably best to keep things a little less touchy for now. A bit odd, the man figured. “How come?”

“Hm… How exactly should I put this?” Peter continued, seemingly shrinking as he continued his stride, his head drifting away from Matt's direction. “She sorta wants to, uh… Meet you?”

For a moment, Matt hesitated. “That's great,” he said, managing to work in some form of charisma to reassure the kid that the hairs on the back of his neck stood up slightly.

“Wait, so you're not nervous?” he replied, seeming surprised. “N-not that there's any reason to be, sir!” he said once again after seeing the look his boss gave him at the sudden question.

“Any reason I should be?” the man said once again, justling the box slightly in his grasp. “She seems like a respectful woman from the few sentences you've told me about her.”

It wasn't that difficult to notice what the man was implying, as Peter answered. “S-sorry about that,” he said. “I thought it would be a bigger issue.”

“Peter, a guardian has every right to meet with their child's boss,” Matt said, keeping his stride in line with the boy's. “Why don't you tell me more about her, exactly?” he asked, hoping to keep the conversation rolling. Wouldn't hurt to get a good assumption on what kind of person May Parker was either.

“How's she like?” Peter said, earning a prompt and affirmative mhm from the man. “Well...what's there to say?”

“Well, where does she work, for example? Is she good with kids, she like animals, and does she think coffee is a acceptable substitute for dinner?”

“Well, she does help run charities and helps out at the homeless shelter from time to time,” Peter said, seeming a bit more in tune with what he wanted to say. “I actually used to go there a lot and play with the other kids when I was little.”

“Sounds like a caring woman.”

“She is,” Peter replied. “Oh, and she takes coffee with plenty of creamer.”

“That's good, because that gives me an excuse to stock up on some groceries,” Matt joked. “Can't stand sweets in coffee.”

“Wait, seriously?” Peter said, a bit more casual and expressive in his body language as he sounded a bit appalled, which in turn caused the edges of Matt's lips to form a small smile. “You seem like the kinda guy who has a sweet tooth.”

“Nope. Can't stand almost anything sweet,” he said, chuckling slightly as Peter raised his eyebrows. “Too strong of a taste.”

“Mr. Murdock, you are the first person to tell me you hate sweets,” Peter said, now focused entirely on the man's irregular sense of taste buds.

“If it helps you sleep at night, ice cream is the only exception,” he said in a casual tone, not being able but to laugh at the kid's surprised sense of curiosity. “The cold texture helps balance out the taste.”

“I guess. Just sounds weird. I thought the only people who hated sweets were crotchety old men and dentists.”

Now this, had Matthew laughing as the kid suddenly realized his mistake in phrasing. “N-not that I'm saying you're old and crotchety, sir!” he said promptly in a apologetic tone, worried he might have overstepped.

“Son, I have a cane and I'm not afraid to whip it out,” Matthew said in a joking tone, with the added bonus of a slight altered voice of a old man.

“Mr. Murdock, don't say that,” the boy replied, not being able to avoid cringing at the sudden remark, his face pink. Matt couldn't exactly help himself, taking his hand off of Peter's shoulder for a moment to wipe a tear from his eye as his laugh calmed down. 

It's been a while since the man had a good chuckle.

 

 

The more Foggy listened, the more he felt ashamed that he had to turn it down.

“Ma'am, I'm sorry, but my plate's full. I'm not equipped to handle the defense for your case,” he said as he loosened his tie, shoulder supporting his smartphone… A lawsuit against a company called Endexoprene. Mortar responsible for paralyzing a kid from the waist down. Pro-bono, not worth much of a lawyer's time. And in Foggy's regard, he was required to turn it away. Cage was already taking up his resources.

“Sir, please,” the woman begged through the phone. “Almost every other law firm in New York turned us down…”

Foggy felt the pit of guilt rock within his stomach, as he wished he could take the case with flying colors… He could win it, he knew for a fact he would win it… But Cage was a much bigger priority in Hogarth's eyes... 

“...Listen… I can't accept the case, but here's what I'll do if it helps.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey...
> 
> Let's just pretend the hiatus didn't happen, sorry about that.
> 
> Also, thanks for 200+ kudos.


End file.
